


Shinobi Isekai!: Round Two!

by Morrowyn



Series: Shinobi Isekai! Extended Universe [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Women, Bad Parenting, Bending (Avatar), Bisexual Character, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Blind Character, Blind Senju Tobirama, Blindness, Bloodbending (Avatar), Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Ever - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Family Angst, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, Fluff, Gen, Gender Issues, Gender Roles, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infanticide, Inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender, Isekai, Kid Fic, Like, M/M, MC is a bitch, Mangekyou Sharingan, Matricide, Mildly Dubious Consent, Miscommunication, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Period-Typical Sexism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reincarnation, Self-Insert, Sexism, Sharingan causes PTSD, Swearing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Transmigration, Visually Impaired Senju Tobirama, Warring States Period (Naruto), sharingan causes blindness, the worst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 69,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23765128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morrowyn/pseuds/Morrowyn
Summary: War is terrible. It breeds terrible people who lead terrible lives and do terrible things. Why the hell did her father have to be one of them?ORKyou just wants a nap. Are they sure she's not a Nara?
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Senju Tobirama/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Shinobi Isekai! Extended Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711768
Comments: 520
Kudos: 1220
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Amazing OFC fanfiction, Naruto Wonderland, Not to be misplaced





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Shinobi Isekai!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21389551) by [Morrowyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morrowyn/pseuds/Morrowyn). 
  * Inspired by [Catch Your Breath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1893351) by [Liangnui](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liangnui/pseuds/Liangnui). 
  * Inspired by [Cultural Differences](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372672) by [GivemeanID](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GivemeanID/pseuds/GivemeanID). 
  * Inspired by [What about Tobirama's markings?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16509269) by [dahtwitchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahtwitchi/pseuds/dahtwitchi). 



> This is the prologue for the Founders Era fic I will be starting in earnest once the pre-Shippuden time-skip in the original Shinobi Isekai comes around. I was too excited so I posted this early. 
> 
> Warning: I told y'all this would be more mature than the original, and I meant it. Please check the tags before you read, as most of them apply to this chapter. Thanks!

Outside the house, time moved on. Insects chirped in the cool of night and the air was filled with bird calls. Wind rustled the leaves of centuries old trees, sending red and gold cast offs tumbling down to the forest floor. The snapping of twigs and occasional snuffle or squeal told the story of larger beasts living their lives out there in the darkness, completely unperturbed by the goings on of Man.

Inside the house, no one moved.

No one, that is, except for the baby. He wailed, his shrill voice reverberating in the small, one room building, bouncing off wooden walls and an earthen floor. Held easily in one of his father’s large hands, he wriggled, face scrunched in obvious discomfort, naked skin still red from birth but quickly growing pale from the cold. His father’s black, black eyes gazed down at him, no warmth or joy to be had in the presence of the newborn. He had a harsh face made cruel by a scowl and a scar from the tip of one ear to the corner of a downturned mouth, pale skin weathered by age and the elements. A permanently furrowed brow pulled down further as he took in the child. His child.

“What is this?”

His voice wasn’t particularly deep, but it carried, and bore with it the weight of decades spent on the battlefield.

The baby cried louder.

The question was directed at the woman in the home’s only bed. Her long, black hair was tangled and matted with sweat. Her face was wan and sickly with dark circles framing darker eyes. Her gaze was empty and she did not respond.

Her husband sneered and turned back to the infant in his hand. A boy, with his father’s nose and frown and only one hand, tiny fingers grasping at nothing. His other arm ended just past the elbow, three tiny, jointless fingers crowning the unfinished limb.

Useless.

With a snarl, he raised the boy up before slamming him onto the ground with a satisfying crunch, finally silencing the piercing cries and returning silence to the small home.

Useless. Nine months, wasted. The midwife’s words returned to him, then, and his scowl deepened at the memory that this would be his wife’s last pregnancy, lest she lose her life.

Well, she hadn’t exactly been successful, had she? Perhaps a replacement was in order.

Killing Intent settled on him, sour and steady despite its weakness. He turned angry eyes on his wife, but she stared ahead, expression unchanged. It wasn’t her. No, it was the other infant; a girl, perfectly formed but just as useless as her failure brother. Blood red eyes stared back at him, the child eerily quiet as she made her rage known through other means.

“Hah,” he laughed incredulously, running a hand down his face. Truly, the Gods were testing him. He had no use for a daughter, and yet! A sharingan looked up at him from a newborn face, anger, frail but tangible, filling the space between them. With shaking hands, he reached down and lifted the naked child from the bed, cradling her gently. She scowled at him, his own face in miniature, and he laughed.

Impossible. A whispered “Kai” assured him no genjutsu clouded his vision. How? How was it possible?

His gaze fell on the broken body of his son, lying still and bleeding on the floor.

Of course. How many of his clansmen had activated their sharingan by witnessing the death of a family member?

All of them. Himself included.

How had no one thought to do this? To activate the sharingan in one child at the expense of another?

Twins were rare among the Uchiha, true, but to pass up such an opportunity…

His daughter met his gaze head on, a single tomoe spinning in the red of her iris as he ran a hand over a full head of dark hair. She growled at him, Killing Intent still radiating from her tiny body.

Perhaps, a daughter could have her uses.

Yes, yes, he could see it now. A plan was forming in his mind and he grinned down at the infant in his arms.

“Yes, you will do nicely, Kyou.”


	2. Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still excited, so here's another chapter.

It was a long time before Kyou accepted she was not, in fact, dreaming. Nightmaring? How much time, she wasn’t sure, since all she seemed to do was eat, sleep, shit, repeat. Her vision was blurry and her body, well, a baby’s, so for the longest time her world consisted of a scratchy, reddish brown blanket on a stiff mattress. She lay on her back beside her mother, the frail woman never looking her way or speaking, only every moving at the prompting of another, older woman who came over at regular intervals to change Kyou and press her to her mother’s chest to feed—which, weird, but ok. Something was obviously wrong with her mother. Something more than being married to a baby murdering assfuck.

Speaking of.

Satan was the only person whose face she ever saw clearly. The moment she realized who she was looking at, her vision cleared to the highest definition. Every wrinkle and scar, every _nose hair_ , was in sharp focus as she leveled her meanest glares on him, chanting _die die die_ with all the menace she could muster. Not that it fazed him. If anything, he seemed to get a kick out of it, cradling her with a half smile that tugged at his scar and made him as ugly on the outside as he was within. It clearly wasn’t an expression he was used to making, if the deep frown lines around his mouth and between his brows were any indication.

Today, Satan seemed especially cheery. He actually cooed at her, _cooed,_ drawing out her new name in a way that had goosebumps rising on her skin. She tried to hit him, tiny fist doing zero damage and eliciting a laugh from the vicious man. He said something in that language she swore she recognized, likely to her caretaker, and carried her away.

Anxiety flooded her system. Where was he taking her? Was he finally getting rid of her?

Her fear translated into baby style fussing, her pale fists striking out at him as she scrunched her eyes closed in the face of bright sunlight. Wow, her eyes were sensitive. Voices she didn’t recognize engaged the demon in conversation, foreign hands poking at her face and running fingers through her hair.

Rude!

She opened her eyes to glare at the interlopers and the ladies— _black hair, black eyes, sunken cheeks in too pale faces_ —jerked their hands back with audible gasps before exchanging rapid fire words with Satan. Huh. Sure, she’d wanted them to stop touching her, but her glares never worked on Satan. Was…was there something wrong with her eyes?

The ladies turned and walked away, and Kyou’s still sharp gaze was drawn to a pop of color on the backs of their dark dresses.

What the fuck?

Like, the actual fuck?

Was she reincarnated into a family of hella intense larpers? That was the only feasible explanation for that symbol.

Satan carried her away, leaning her against him so she was looking over his shoulder. She wriggled until she could see down his back and caught a glimpse of red and white on the back of what she now recognized was a dark kimono. Yukata?

The language must be Japanese, then. That’s why she recognized it without understanding it—familiarity born of a youth well spent. If only real life had subtitles.

The blinding light of the sun gave way to pleasant darkness and Kyou found herself indoors, again. There were more voices, but she was thankfully left unprodded as Satan moved through a building much larger than their home. God, being a baby sucked. She wanted to turn her head, to actually see where she was going, but no. She was stuck looking over Satan’s shoulder like a Renaissance demon. Her vision was blurry again, so the people they passed were all pale, indistinct blobs. Satan’s voice rumbled beneath her, and Kyou took the opportunity to whack the side of his head.

Can’t blame a baby for doing baby things, right?

Naturally, he was completely unfazed. One day. One day she’d avenge her brother. She’d leave Satan bleeding in the dirt and run away with her mother.

Suddenly, she was handed off to someone else, Satan’s voice introducing her as he handed her off. The new hands were smaller than her father’s, softer, and the face she looked up at was round with large eyes.

A kid, then. With the same dark hair and eyes as everyone else.

The sandy foundations of her larping theory were swiftly crumbling. How the hell would they find so many people who looked exactly alike? Kids, too!

Did _she_ look like that?

God, she hoped not.

The kid holding her smiled, his face close enough for her to recognize the expression despite her blurry vision. Hmm. Could she get away with hitting this kid? Satan never even flinched whenever she whacked him, but, maybe…just maybe….

* * *

Three year old Izuna stared down at Shuji-san’s baby, the little boy meeting his gaze evenly with sharp eyes. Kyou-kun was the newest addition to the Uchiha Clan—and the most pitiful, according to his mother. Shuji’s wife was _sick_ —the odd emphasis everyone put on the word told him it wasn’t the normal kind—and Kyou’s twin hadn’t survived his first day. That was why Shuji had waited so long before bringing Kyou to meet the elders. He wanted to be sure the baby would live.

Kyou didn’t look like a sick baby, though, and Izuna was glad to finally meet his little cousin. Shuji was cousins with Izuna’s father, Tajima, but he never really visited. Privately, Izuna considered his uncle more than a little scary, the familiar Uchiha scowl somehow terrible on his scarred face. Kyou looked alright, though. Normal. Like all the other babies he’d seen before.

A new light entered the baby’s dark eyes, then, and Izuna looked down at his cousin nervously. He wasn’t pooping, was he?

_Whack!_

Izuna stared, agog, at the baby in his arms, tiny fist waving in the air as he cooed with delight.

“Izuna-kun,” Shuji-san called from within the meeting hall. “Can you bring Kyou in, please?”

Inside the hall, Shuji was kneeling in the center of the room, facing a line of kneeling old men with Tajima sitting off to one side. Izuna stepped forward and bowed to the elders, arms tightening around the baby. Once receiving a dismissal, he turned to hand Kyou-kun back to his father.

“Ah,” Shuji’s terrifying face softened at the sight of his son. “Come here, Kyou.”

Tajima inhaled sharply, leaping to his feet as his cousin cradled the baby.

“Shuji! What is that?”

Izuna stared up at his father, confused by his uncharacteristic actions. What was wrong with Kyou? He looked like a normal baby to Izuna.

Shuji chuckled lowly, turning the infant in his arms so everyone could see whatever it was that had startled Tajima so badly. The stuffy old men broke out into loud discussion, throwing around words like “impossible” and “kai”. Izuna shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his curiosity breaking through his discipline rather easily. Luckily, Tajima was too distracted to reprimand him. Quietly, he crept forward until he could see his little cousin’s face and froze.

How? How could a baby have a sharingan? Not even Anija had one, yet!

“Shuji-kun,” Junsuke-jii-sama said, taking control of the situation with a sharp gesture and sharper tone. “What is the meaning of this?”

Shuji bowed his head to the elder. “Apologies, elders, Tajima-sama. I would have told you sooner, but I wanted to be sure Kyou would live long enough for such a revelation to have meaning. His brother…” The elders expressed their understanding and condolences, all the while urging him to continue. “Kyou’s sharingan activated shortly after his brother’s death. I was lucky enough to be home to witness it and I have strived to ensure his survival these past several weeks.”

Tajima hummed in consideration, crossing his arms over his chest. “So that’s why you’ve been turning down mission requests.”

Shuji bowed in agreement. “Yes, Tajima-sama. I beg your understanding and forgiveness.”

Izuna watched, amazed, as his father waved away his cousin’s apology. Tajima had complained loudly of Shuji’s sudden hesitance, calling him all manner of rude names in the privacy of their home. Now, he simply sighed.

“That boy will prove an asset to the Clan,” he said with a frown. “You did the right thing.”

Shuji passed his son over to a beckoning elder and visibly preened as the old men crowded around the increasingly surly baby. Izuna winced in sympathy as Junsuke-jii-sama fell victim to the child’s swift fist.

“Hoho, the boy’s already a fighter,” the old man said with approval thick in his voice. “Well done, Shuji-kun, well done.”

Izuna swallowed thickly as his father’s expression grew darker than he’d ever seen it, all while Shuji’s lopsided smile shone brighter.

“The boy still has a ways to go,” Tajima interjected. “When will you begin training him, cousin?”

“I’m planning on three years old, like everyone else, but if he shows an aptitude we may start sooner, Tajima-sama.”

“Hmm, don’t push him too hard, cousin. It would be a waste to lose such a talent to misplaced ambition.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Tajima-sama. I only wish to assist my son in reaching his fullest potential, as you do yours.”

Izuna watched the back and forth with mounting unease. There was something going on that he couldn’t quite understand, but it was filling the air with a tension thick enough to cut. Tajima scowled at his cousin who simply smiled in return. This was not their usual dynamic, and Izuna desperately wished to remove himself from the meeting hall.

“Izuna,” his father said, eyes never leaving Shuji-san’s face. “Go home.”

With a quick bow, he all but threw himself from the room, rushing down the halls and out into the village. No one payed him much mind as he ran full speed to his home. It was one of the larger buildings, with three separate rooms and a sizeable porch. Many of the other children had expressed envy over his position as Clan Head’s son, but he knew it was more over his house than anything else. Most children had to share with an ever growing number of siblings, but he and Anija had their own rooms. His mother looked up from her sewing when he entered, dark eyes wide with surprise.

“Izuna-kun, what is it?” Her voice was soft and soother his ruffled feathers easily. “What’s got you so upset?”

“Kyou has a sharingan,” he blurted without preamble. “He’s just a baby and he has a sharingan and father is mad and—.”

“Woah, now,” his mother chuckled as she held a hand to his lips, forcing him to stop his ramble. “Slow down, Izuna-kun. Breathe.”

He did so, taking a deep, steadying breath before trying again. “Shuji-san’s baby has a sharingan. I saw it when he presented him to the elders. Father’s not happy about it, though. Isn’t that a good thing?”

Even as he asked, he knew it wasn’t. It couldn’t be, when his mother frowned like that. She ran slender fingers through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp.

“You mean Shuji and Hitomi’s baby? I thought he died?”

Izuna shook his head, impatient. “One did, but they were twins! Shuji-san said Kyou-kun’s sharingan activated after his brother died.”

His mother’s expression soured further. “I see.”

He tugged at the sleeve of her dark kimono. “Mother, why is that a bad thing? Isn’t it good that we have someone strong in the Clan?”

Her scowl lost its edge as she looked down at him. “Oh, Izuna, it _is_ good for the Clan, but not for your brother.”

“Anija? What could a baby ever do to him? Anija’s the best!”

His mother smiled wanly in response, running her fingers through his hair. “Yes, yes he is.”

That wasn’t an answer, but Izuna recognized it as the closest he’d get to one and let the subject drop. His parents would likely discuss it once father and Anija returned for the night, and he’d get his answers then.

One way or another.


	3. The Meat of Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People like to point out how short my chapters are. Well, here's one that's double my usual length. I usually end a chapter when a scene is done, but I kept on this time. Tell me what you think.
> 
> For anyone interested, here's a list of reincarnation comics that I'm using as inspiration for Kyou's baby days:
> 
> Lady Baby  
> The Youngest Princess  
> Daughter of the Emperor  
> Miss Not So Sidekick
> 
> I highly recommend them all!

Satan’s name was Shuji.

It didn’t suit him. Like, at all. Shuji was the kind of name given to a particularly loyal dog, not the Demon King.

Not that anyone ever asked Kyou’s opinion on the matter. On any matter, really.

Babies weren’t exactly fonts of knowledge, after all.

Normal babies, anyway. Which she wasn’t. She sure as hell didn’t have the self-restraint necessary to pretend, either. She’d consumed reincarnations comics with an avarice which negatively impacted her studies, filing her head with all sorts of fancies. Now, presented with an opportunity to be the world changing genius she’d so enjoyed reading about, she found herself discouraged.

The comics had always glazed over how _long_ everything took.

Everyday, left alone beside her mother in a dimly lit home, she babbled. Babababa, mamamama, tatatata. That sort of thing. Anything to build up her lingual dexterity. Whenever her caretaker or Shuji the Demon King were home, she listened in perfect silence, grasping onto the few Japanese words she knew and slowly but surely growing her vocabulary. She wanted her genius debut to be spectacular. A full sentence, said with perfect diction! She’d settle for nothing less!

Well, publicly. If her babbled “kaachan” went unacknowledged by the woman by her side, well, no one had to know, right?

Physically, she was still abysmally weak. What were the baby milestones, again? Now she was wishing she’d paid attention during her cousin’s baby rants, as off putting as they’d been. Tummy time! Wasn’t tummy time a thing? Why wasn’t she getting any tummy time? Did these weird Naruto wannabes not know about tummy time?

Even _she_ knew about tummy time.

Kyou added basic stretches to her training regimen, trying valiantly to roll over, reach her toes, etcetera. The day she finally succeeded in pulling herself up into a sitting position using her mother as a support, she cackled with glee.

Soon, she’d wreak havoc on this weird nightmare Naruto world.

Soon.

* * *

Shuji glared down at his one year old daughter. She glared back, his own scowl—once endearing—mirrored back at him.

“Kyou,” he growled. “Speak.”

That annoying twinkle entered her eyes again, and she turned her head away in a blatant rejection of his command, straight black hair swishing around her ears.

Rarely did Shuji have cause to be angry with his daughter. She was a model child, never crying or screaming like all other children her age. She took her first steps at six months of age, firmly establishing her place in the Clan as a genius. She could grasp wooden kunai, though she showed no interest in throwing them, and he _knew_ she could understand what he was saying.

She just wouldn’t speak. The silence he’d always been grateful for was now the bane of his existence. If one more person expressed their condolences for the ‘poor boy’—.

No, no, he couldn’t afford to lose his temper. This was only the first set back. Kyou was still so far beyond her peers in all other aspects, taking a little longer in this one skill would prove inconsequential in the long run.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, running a hand through his short black hair. He watched as Kyou used his leg to pull herself to her feet before tottering off to the other side of their home where she kept a small pile of stones. He’d learned a while back that they were off limits, the echoes of her first temper tantrum still fresh in his eardrums.

Fine. If she wanted to take her time with this one thing, he’d allow it. For now.

* * *

Kyou sat in the dirt outside the village walls, dragging a stick along the ground between her spread legs. Her hands were still chubby and her coordination wasn’t what she wanted it to be, but at least she could move. The Demon King had taken full advantage of that, placing all manner of sharp objects into her hands and correcting the way she stood every chance he got. Ah, the ninja life.

She wasn’t sure where she stood on the whole ninja thing, to be honest. Child soldiers were bad, one hundred percent, but ninja powers? Pretty cool, man.

She could still remember the awe and terror rising up in her like twin beasts when she saw her first fire ball. It was that kid, her cousin, Izuna, and the look of total superiority he’d thrown at her had set her off like nothing else. He was so lucky he was important to the plot, or else she’d…

Nothing.

It was then that her helplessness really set in. In the face of people with magic eyes and giant pet toads, her superior brain was nothing. That brat could kill her so easily, and the only thing stopping him was the barest thread of human decency shinobi life allowed children to keep. If they weren’t family, Kyou had no doubt she’d be dead.

He really didn’t like her, for some reason. Every time she happened upon him, he glared at her. She had no idea why, considering how smiley he’d been back when she was itty bitty, but she didn’t care, either way.

She wanted to breathe fire, dammit!

That meant actually listening to Shuji, though. And, worse, talking to him.

She’d kept her silence this long, and she really didn’t want to break it. But fire breathing~.

She huffed, scratching at the ground with her stick until her name stared up at her. A box with an x in it. Real simple. Thank God. So far, it was the only kanji she knew and she balked at the idea of learning more. Shuji had shown it to her on multiple occasions while trying to get her to speak, and it had stuck. She had no idea what it meant, yet, but she would. Eventually.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?”

Ugh.

She looked up at her oldest cousin, Madara—yes, _that_ Madara. His face was a longer, less angry version of Izuna’s, his mother’s looks clearly taking the reigns in his development. His iconic fluffy hair hung just past his shoulders, as black as her own but with much more volume. His skin was pale, with a smattering of freckles across his face and hands— _not_ something Kishimoto had ever mentioned, but she wasn’t complaining. He wore a dark yukata and no sandals, just like her. She was fairly certain her clothing consisted mainly of hand-me-downs from him and Izuna, anyway, so the resemblance wasn’t surprising.

He was little and cute now, but she knew what he’d turn into. Still, it was a little jarring to have Mr. End the World in a Blaze of Fire™ look down at her with concern.

When she didn’t answer, he squat down in front of her, his arms braced on his knees. “Hey, you’re Shuji-san’s son, right? He’s looking for you, you know.”

Ugh. _Son_. When she’d first realized she was being called a _musuko_ instead of a _musume_ she’d frantically disrobed just in case she’d somehow been reborn as a boy, but nope. Shuji was just a psychopath. Honestly, he was lucky she wasn’t a normal kid or he’d be the source of a lot of issues.

Looking at Madara, she held a hand to her mouth and shushed him, channeling her inner Boo from Monsters Inc. His eyebrows rose.

“You know you shouldn’t hide from your father. He must be worried.”

She scoffed. Yeah, right.

“You can write?”

She froze. Shit. She hadn’t meant to reveal that, yet. She reached over and rubbed the kanji back into the dirt with frantic hands.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing? That was very good!” Madara caught her wrists in his hands, expression bewildered.

“Let me go!” She demanded, pulling at his grip with futile anger. “Stop it!”

“You can talk?”

Ah, fuck!

“No, shut up! Let me go!” He did and she fell onto her ass with a whine. She clutched at her tender wrists with a hiss. “Just go away and leave me alone!”

Her cousin stayed where he was, looking down at her that that same quizzical expression. Then, he picked up her stick and wrote out her name again, adding another, more complicated kanji beside it.

“There, that’s my name,” he said with a small smile.

“I didn’t ask,” she grumbled, scooting away from him with a scowl. He sighed, falling back onto the ground and trapping her between his own splayed legs. Curses.

“Why are you pretending you can’t speak?” Agh, the dreaded question. “Your father would be very proud.”

“Yeah, but no one else would be,” she spat back, nursing her wounded pride in the only way she knew how—sweet vengeance! “Izuna might kill me in a jealous rage.”

“He would not!”

Kyou laughed at Madara’s scandalized expression. “Oh, please. He hates me. The whole Clan does. They only keep me around because I might end up saving one of their useless brats one day.”

“That’s not true,” poor kid seemed to actually believe it. “You’re a member of this Clan, Kyou-kun. No one would ever wish that kind of misfortune on you.”

“Izuna would,” she insisted with a sniff. “I didn’t even do anything to him.”

Yes, that’s it Kyou, play up your adorable babyness. No one can resist!

“He wouldn’t!” Ah, she’d made him angry. “He-he’s not-he doesn’t hate you!”

“Yes, he does!” She yelled back. “He knocks down my towers and sets me on fire and hides my kunai and—!”

Madara held up a hand to stall her rant. “Woah, he what? He set you on fire?”

“Sata-Father says it’s my fault for not training. If I did, I could have dodged it.”

Kyou looked down, dragging a chubby finger through the dirt, sniffling miserably. Yes, yes, fall for it, Madara, you know you want to! You founded—will found?—a village for the express purpose of protecting children. Crumble before the cuteness!

“He’s right.”

Ack!

She looked up at him with wide, bewildered eyes. His expression was stern, but not as harsh as his father’s could be.

“You should be training, Kyou-kun. Especially if you’re this smart. You’d give the Clan a serious advantage on the field. I can only imagine how strong you’ll be when you’re my age.”

He’d meant it as a compliment, she knew he did, but the idea of going to war the way the anime had portrayed it had her feeling green. “B-but, I’m so little!” She held up her little baby hands. “I can’t fight!”

Madara smiled, revealing soft, barely there dimples. “Well, obviously you won’t go fight, yet. You have to train, first.”

No! That wasn’t what she wanted!

“Hmph!” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t wanna fight!”

A hand ruffled her black hair and she looked up through her lashes at a chuckling Madara. “I know, Kyou-kun. Nobody does. But if we don’t, they still will, and everyone we love will get hurt. As the men of the Clan, it’s our job to protect the women and children, right?”

Oh, boy, how the fuck was she gonna handle this? If she revealed she was a girl, Satan would definitely kill her. No doubt about it. And if he didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to learn any cool jutsus because the Uchiha were sexist as fuck. Hrm.

“I _am_ a child,” she said at last, staring imploringly up at the only person in the Clan she knew might sympathize.

His smile widened. “I know. That’s why I’ll protect you until you can do it yourself.”

Drat.

She squealed in protest when he pulled her up into his arms as he stood, burying her face in his fluffy hair as he laughed at her expense.

“Come on, Kyou, you should go train with your father. Talk to him, too. I promise, Izuna won’t hate you.”

Myeh mnyeh nyeh meh nyeh~.

She squealed again as Madara jumped straight into the air, landing on the wall surrounding the village with ease. She pulled herself away from him as she looked out over the small community with eyes so wide, she felt like they might fall out.

“Woah! Do it again!”

He laughed at her, again, but this time she didn’t care. “Hey, now, if you train, you’ll be able to this yourself.”

She shook her head in one last attempt to charm him with her cuteness. “Nope! I want Mada-nii to do it!”

He laughed again as he ran across the rooftops, leaping down in front of her home. “I don’t know, you’re kind of heavy, Kyou-kun.”

She smirked up at him. “Sounds like _you’re_ the one who needs to train, Mada-nii.”

He smiled and set her down. “Maybe I do. We should train together, then.”

Ooh, sneaky sneaky. He really had the whole big brother thing down pat, huh?

“Kyou.”

Scheize.

She turned away from her cousin and looked up into Satan’s cloudy face. Immediately, she clammed up, stepping into Madara’s shadow. Her cousin placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her toward the scowling baby murderer with a laugh.

“Shuji-san, I found your runaway.”

Shuji was not happy, not at all. He smiled, but it was a terrible expression, already a permanent fixture in Kyou’s nightmares.

“Thank you, Madara-kun. I’ll take him from you.”

Shuji picked her up and carried her into their home, tossing her onto the bed at her mother’s feet. She lay there, refusing to look at the fuming man as he paced back and forth, running hands through his short hair as he ranted.

“I have been patient with you, Kyou,” he was muttering. “I haven’t pushed you as hard as I could have, I let you have your little rebellion, but,” he turned on her, face red with anger. “I cannot hold back any longer! There are too many things at stake, here, Kyou, for you to be running around with _that_ boy. Fucking Tajima, throwing his boys around like they’ll ever be better than _my_ son.”

“But I’m not a son,” she said angrily, feeding off his erratic energy as she made to ask all the questions she’d kept bottled up inside.

Quick as a viper, he grabbed hold of her face, fingers pressing the meat of her cheeks against her teeth as he pulled her forward until their foreheads touched. “You _are_ a son, Kyou. You _must_ be a son. Anything else and they’ll just tie you up with a bow and gift you to the first family to whine loud enough. It that what you want? Hm? _Is it?_ ” He pushed her back, her head hitting her mother’s covered shin, the frail woman not even blinking. “You are strong, Kyou, smart, too. All of that will be wasted unless you are a son. Do you understand?”

Kyou said nothing, turning her head to spit out the blood which had pooled in her mouth.

“They’ll stifle you,” Satan was saying, eyes manic and red with more than just the sharingan. “They’ll use you to stifle me, to keep me from what is supposed to be mine—to be ours! Do you understand, Kyou?”

The only thing she understood was that this man was crazy. And strong. Too strong to fight.

“I understand.”

The crazed light faded a bit from his gaze. “Ah, Kyou. Kyou, my Kyou.” He reached out and took her face in his hands, either ignoring or oblivious to the violent flinch which wracked her when he touched her. His fingers ran through her hair and grabbed hold, tugging at the silky black strands mercilessly. “You’re not going to run from your training anymore, are you?”

She shook her head as much as his grip would allow. “No.”

“Good, good, Kyou. We have things to do.”

* * *

The next day, Kyou sat in front of Satan, legs crossed as she tried to mimic him. In his hands was a wide, reddish brown leaf, all the moisture sucked out of it. There was a burning hole in the middle of it, and he was using his chakra to keep it from spreading. Now, Kyou, with her super awesome modern times brain, already knew that he was likely using his chakra as an alternate fuel source for the fire, sparing the leaf from further consumption. However, knowing how something is done and doing it yourself are two different things. Her leaves kept burning up, and the sizeable pile she’d started with was quickly dwindling.

“Concentrate, Kyou,” he said with surprising patience. “Use your sharingan to see how I’m doing it.”

Ah, the sharingan. Bane of her existence. She’d figured out pretty quickly that the sudden sharpening of vision she experienced was due to the whirligig of doom. Once she’d figured out how to control it, she kept it under wraps. She’d meant most of what she’d said to Madara the day before—she wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in school.

She felt her eyes burning ever so slightly as Satan came into sharp focus. She could just barely make out the flow of energy around him, and the way it cycled around the leave in his hands. Looking at her own leaf, she tried to make the energy she saw there do the same.

The fire went out.

“Hmm,” Shuji handed her another leaf, igniting it while activating his own sharingan. “Again.”

The fire went out.

He sat back, one hand scratching at the day’s worth of beard on his sharp jaw before standing. “Stay here.”

Kyou fiddled around with the leaves some more as she waited for him to come back. It looked like she was doing it right, but not even her super mega awesome modern world brain could help with magic.

“Hey, brat.”

S _á_ lvame, Dios.

Kyou didn’t look up as Izuna blocked her sun, his shadow standing with hands on hips.

“Hey, Anija said you can talk! Why don’t you ever say anything, huh?”

“Because I knew you’d do this.”

“Huh?”

She looked up at him, jaw set stubbornly as she glared at Madara’s most precious person. “I knew you’d start whining like a bitch if you knew how much of a genius I really am.”

He gawked at her, mouth open in shock. “Wh-what?”

“I said,” she drawled, a smirk climbing up her face. “You’re a whiny bitch.”

Izuna launched himself at her with a yell, easily pinning her down beneath his superior weight. Hmm. She probably shouldn’t have provoked him like that. Oops. She smiled up at him, her sharingan stinging her eyes.

“See? I told you so.”

His face twisted with more than just anger as he raised his fist. She braced herself for the hit but was suddenly free of his weight.

“Izuna!”

Aw, sweet!

“Mada-nii!” She sat up so quickly she saw spots. “I told you! I told you he hates me!”

Should she really be manipulating a pair of kids like this?

No, but it was fun.

Izuna shrank under his brother’s glare, disapproval a tangible weight in the air. “Anija, I swear, he started it!”

“I was minding my own business,” she countered, struggling to keep a smug grin in check. “I was training, Mada-nii, just like you told me to! See?”

She held up her leaves, keeping her eyes wide and her voice cutesy. Gotta play up that ‘I’m so little what could I possibly do wrong’ aspect.

“Izuna,” Madara’s tone was dripping with censure. “What has gotten into you? Kyou-kun is a member of our Clan, a future shinobi who will fight by our side.”

Kyou nodded along. Yes, yes, tell him.

“Anija,” Izuna whined. “You know what father says about him. How can I just—.”

“You can.” Ooh, Madara was mad, now. “If everything father said was true, we’d live in a very different world, Izuna. I expect you to make your own judgements.”

“Yes, Anija.”

“What’s this?”

Kyou looked up at Shuji in a panic. “I stayed! I stayed, see?”

He turned his scowl on her quarreling cousins. “Is there something you two need, or can my son get back to training?”

Both boys bowed slightly to their uncle and ran off, leaving Kyou alone with the baby killer. Cowards.

Shuji sat down in his spot with a slight groan. “Kyou, what did I tell you about those boys?”

“I didn’t do anything,” she insisted. “They came to me. Honest!”

That crazy glint left his eyes, and Kyou let herself breathe. Jesus, he was bipolar.

“Here,” he held a piece of paper out to her. “Take this. It’s a paper that will tell us your chakra affinity. Watch.” He tapped his temple and she focused her sharingan on the paper. That fuzzy energy flowed up his fingertip into the paper, setting it aflame. “Your turn.”

She looked at the paper in her hands. What would he do if her chakra wasn’t what he wanted? Would he kill her? Call her useless and bash her head against the ground then turn around and tell everyone she was sickly after all?

Swallowing thickly, she called up her own chakra and watched it fill her paper. It flopped over, soaking wet.

She looked up at Shuji with wide eyes, biting at her lip as she awaited the verdict.

He looked…surprised? Was water not normal? Sure, all the Uchiha she could remember were fire or lightning types, but they couldn’t be the _only_ types, right?

He sighed and she stiffened. “So _that’s_ how it’s going to be.”

“Um,” she began hesitantly. “Is this…bad?”

“Hmm, yes and no.” He propped his head up in one hand as he glared at the sopping paper in her hands. “No, because you’re the only one in the Clan with water affinity. Yes, because you’re the only one in the Clan with water affinity.”

Translation: You’re special because no one has it but you’re boned because no one can teach you.

He sighed again, with gusto this time, and ran a hand down his face. “This will be difficult.”

Blood filled her mouth as she bit at her lip. It would be, wouldn’t it?

Wasn’t that a good thing, though? Now she had a legitimate reason to suck at being a ninja. Maybe, if she sucked enough, Satan would give up and let her do her own thing.

Nah, who was she kidding? He was already getting that look in his eye again.

“U-um, what is the leaf trick supposed to do? Maybe we can figure something out that does the same thing with water.”

The crazy left his gaze. “That’s not a bad idea.”

No shit. She relaxed as they began brainstorming exercises to help with chakra control and circulation, Kyou drawing on her memories of the anime for water based alternatives. Eventually, they settled on using her chakra to stir a bowl of water. Shuji used a chopstick to get it going and she tried to keep up the rotation. It was _hard_! The closest she got to success was a ripple or two, but Shuji looked pleased and declared it her training for the next week. Ugh. Her brain was sore. 

It wasn’t until much later that a life changing realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

_Holy shit I’m a waterbender!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Madara's name (斑) means spotted. Thus a freckled Madara is born!
> 
> Kyou's name (凶) means evil intentions. Lol.


	4. Melonlord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have once again commissioned an artist on Fiverr! If you want to see chibi Kyou, you can find it on my [Tumblr](https://66.media.tumblr.com/1e8d9556796a67d118931621c0763e7b/7a8988a38766e81e-11/s2048x3072/91c1e351f3bdfbe8989ebc4b1e9740e2d006ed18.png) or here on [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760889/chapters/57946534).
> 
> This chapter is longer than the paper I should have written instead. Oops.

Kyou ran the comb through her mother’s hair, the pin straight locks soft and silky in her hands. The woman didn’t move or acknowledge her, staring straight ahead as she always did. At a solid three years old—though she loudly proclaimed it was three and a _half_ to anyone who asked—Kyou was finally dexterous enough to help care for the woman who’d brought her into this strange new world, and she did so without complaint. Uchiha Hitomi was a frail woman, with long, slender fingers and equally long limbs. When she could be coaxed into standing, she was actually taller than her husband, something Kyou got a kick out of and privately prayed she would inherit. Her hair was as dark as everyone else’s, but lacked the signature fluffiness that all the other Uchiha sported with pride. Instead, it fell loosely around a rather long, expressionless face. She had a sharp widow’s peak—a trait Kyou shared—and long, luxurious eyelashes. Her skin was a shade or two darker than everyone’s, even despite living exclusively indoors, and Kyou had a hunch her mother wasn’t a purebred Uchiha.

Good. That meant Kyou was the healthiest little Uchiha, as well as the smartest.

She didn’t know what was wrong with her mother—the one time she’d asked, Satan had kicked her so hard she’d broken a rib—but she had her theories. Hitomi would move and eat when pressed, but otherwise didn’t react to outside stimuli, never speaking or looking at anything beyond the middle distance. A stroke? Intense depression? A neurological condition or injury?

Too bad they were in the middle ages and the only people with medical magic were their sworn enemies.

Her mother’s catatonia also raised horrifying questions about how Kyou had been conceived. Hitomi was in no state to give consent to anything, let alone pregnancy. According to the whispers among the gossips, she’d been that way for years and suffered through several other pregnancies—none of the children lived, of course—and literally no one saw anything wrong with that.

It was becoming clear that Satan was both inherently evil _and_ a product of his environment. Of all the times for nature and nurture to set aside their differences.

A Demon King born to a Demon Clan.

“Kyou-chan, here. Use this to pull it out of her face.”

The old woman who’d cared for Kyou as a baby—and her mother all the rest of the time—was actually her grandmother, Shuji’s mother. She was a small, hunchbacked caricature of an Asian old lady. Her soft voice and blank eyes in the face of her son’s wrath told of a life filled with such men, and Kyou sympathized with her. Being a woman among the Uchiha was not an easy fate. Kyou didn’t even know her name, since Satan called her mother and everyone else called her “Shuji’s mother”. Her entire identity had been erased.

Kyou liked to think that was why she hadn’t told anyone about their family secret. Saving her grandchild from the clutches of chauvinism was a much better reason than giving in to a temperamental manchild.

Kyou pulled her mother’s hair up high on her head, twisting it into a bun and using the pin her grandmother had given her to hold it in place. It was a little lopsided, but she blamed that on her three year old baby hands and a lifetime of pixie cuts and mohawks.

“Tada!”

Her grandmother chuckled. “Very good, Kyou-chan. Now, come here. It’s your turn.”

Kyou’s hair fell to her mid back and was as straight as her mother’s, making it a bit of a hassle to style. Her mother’s would stay in place all day because she never moved, but Kyou was a ninja in training, so whatever her grandmother did to it would likely be undone in under an hour. Honestly, she really missed elastic hair ties, even though her hair was never long enough to need them.

She sat on the edge of the bed and kicked her feet as her grandmother gathered her hair up into a high ponytail, shorter strands escaping her grasp and falling around her face and neck. She was so tempted to just cut it all off, but the loving way the old woman wound a strip of leather around the black locks had her reconsidering. Long hair was a status symbol for shinobi, a sign that they didn’t fear their enemies using it against them. For women, it was a symbol of beauty. By keeping her hair long, Kyou killed two birds with one stone, broadcasting her strength and clinging to the one vestige of femininity her father would allow.

“There you go,” her grandmother said with a smile and a pat on Kyou’s head. “Off you go, then. Put those boys in their place.”

Fuck yeah, grandma!

“I will!”

She ran out into the growing morning light, rushing through the eerily still predawn village. Gathered in the small training ground near the gates were a handful of children around her age. Looming over them was one of the village elders, Junsuke, his face set in that perpetual frown all Uchiha men seemed to wear and his arm tucked inside his kimono like a world weary samurai brooding before battle. His expression brightened fractionally as she joined the group.

“Ah, Kyou. I was wondering if you would be joining us.”

The other kids snickered and whispered among themselves, throwing glares at her like they thought she wouldn’t notice.

“Sorry, Junsuke-jii-sama,” she said with a smile. “At least I’m not late?”

The old man snorted—the only expression of amusement he ever made. “Indeed. Now,” he turned his attention to the whole group, most of which were appalled at her lack of punishment. Hah! “As you all know, you will join your kinsmen on the battlefield once you reach five years of age. For many of you, that day is quickly approaching. While felling the enemy is important, so is returning alive. With this in mind, you will be practicing the substitution technique, also called kawarimi, until noon. Do not hesitate to ask me or your peers for assistance. The Clan supports its own. Now, begin!”

The children splintered off into their respective friend groups, chatting quietly. Kyou stayed where she was, alone. The kawarimi technique involved switching places with an object, typically a log, imbued with the shinobi’s chakra. Satan had already shown her how to insert her chakra into things, and she’d gotten pretty good at switching them around with each other. The first time she managed to switch places with something herself, he’d actually acted like a father, treating her to a red bean desert she hadn’t had since. That was almost a year ago. Kawarimi was old hat to her now, and the idea of sitting around doing something so simple over and over again was gross.

She approached Junsuke, tugging on his dark blue kimono. “Jii-sama?”

He looked down at her. “Hmm? What is it Kyou? Would you like a more difficult jutsu to practice?”

Ah, the wonders of being a genius.

She shook her head. “I had a question.” At his prompting, she began to explain a theory she’d had since her weeaboo days. “Is it possible to kawarimi with another person? Like, if you’re facing an enemy your friend would be better at fighting, so you switch!”

Junsuke’s dark eyes sparkled with interest. “That is an interesting concept, Kyou. Certainly, that would be a great advantage in combat. Why do you think no one has done it, yet?”

Ugh. He was treating her like a child. That tone~, eugh, it was so condescending.

“Well, obviously it’s because of the chakra problem. Imbuing your chakra into an object is one thing, but doing it to a living being is a lot harder. But,” she widened her eyes, making herself as cute and guileless as possible. “What if the other ninja was wearing something imbued with chakra? Then, you could kawarimi over to your friend!”

Junsuke stroked his chin in consideration. “You could, yes. That might prove a little inconvenient for your friend, though.”

“But—!”

He placed a hand on her head, loosening the already slipping ponytail as he ruffled her hair. “I’ll think about it, Kyou. In the meantime, why don’t you practice your Fireball?”

Uh, because she’s a water type? Sure, her sharingan let her memorize jutsus and immediately incorporate them into her own arsenal, but that didn’t mean she, as a three year old suiton user, could automatically use a fire type technique. She was a genius, not a God. Ugh, all her loser cousins were going to pick on her for not getting it right away.

She should have just practiced the kawarimi.

She ran through the hand signs slowly, one at a time, her chakra answering her call as she tried to force it into a shape it refused to wear. Water was formless, but chakra was stubborn. All that came out of her mouth was a puff of smoke.

Her audience snickered.

“Jii-sama,” she asked in a theatrically miserable voice. “Can I go practice at the river? I promise I won’t go anywhere else.”

“Now, Kyou—.”

“Please?”

He sighed and she knew she’d won. The glares of her shithead cousins filled her with joy as she left the village. Ah, the perks of being the favorite.

The river had quickly proven one of her favorite places. It was a little out of the way, taking her a few hours of normal walking to reach on a good day. She still hadn’t gotten the hang of ninja super speed, but she was definitely faster than the average toddler, so she made it to the river by…around 9? Ish? Measuring time was a little iffy, without watches. She could make a sundial, she supposed, but she was too lazy. Besides, losing track of time was a much more valid excuse when no one was tracking it in the first place.

The river ran swift and clean, carving a path through the forest. Sometimes she wondered if it was the same river Madara was supposed to meet Hashirama on. That was supposed to be happening soon, right? She couldn’t remember how old he was in the manga, but it had to be soon. Not that it mattered to her. She was gonna ditch the Uchiha the first chance she got. The moment she was strong enough to avoid capture _poof!_ She’d be gone. No Clan bullshit for her, no siree!

The best part of the river—aside from its distance from the clan and the abundance of water she could use in training—was something she’d added herself. Humming happily, she followed the riverbank until she came upon her secret stash. She discarded her sandals and pushed into the reeds where, nestled between two conveniently large rocks, was a watermelon patch.

Plucking one after careful selection, she hoisted it aloft and cried, “Tonight she shall feast!”

“W-what?”

Oh shit!

She whirled, clutching her precious watermelon to her chest as she stared across the river in shock. It was a kid. A little boy with tan skin, swollen eyes, and black and white hair.

What the fuck?

Madara was the one with the Romeo and Juliet backstory, not her!

Discount Todoroki rubbed at his eyes, hiccoughing in a vain attempt to stop his tears. Oh, no. No! She hated crying children. Unless she was the one who made them cry, but that was different. If he was some random stranger, she could have left him alone. Alas, she knew all about his tragic death. 

Ngyeurgh~.

“Hey, you!” She shouted across the water. “You want some watermelon?”

Curses. Stupid mouth, running ahead of brain. Now she’d have to share.

“Hu-huh?”

Kyou raised the watermelon. “This! Do you want some?”

He just stood there, wiping furiously at his eyes without responding, so Kyou took the initiative—egad! She crossed the river slowly, lovingly cradling her watermelon as she stepped on the water. It was weird, standing on the river and not getting wet, but her chakra repelled the water. The boy was watching her warily—understandable, as she was clearly a strange ninja—and she put extra effort into looking cute as she extended her mode prized possession.

“Watermelon?”

He sniffed. Still not an answer, dude.

Whatever. He definitely wanted watermelon. No doubt about it. Who wouldn’t? Watermelon was one of the few sweet things kids in this world could get their hands on, and she only had it because her asshole cousins had given her a piece filled with seeds last summer when one of the adults brought a big one back from wherever he’d been for a mission. She plopped down on the grass next to Hashirama’s brother, settling the melon between her splayed legs with a ‘humph’.

“Do you have a kunai?” She asked. “I forgot mine.” Oops.

The older boy—or was he just taller?—wiped at his eyes one last time and produced a blade as if from nowhere. She took it with quiet thanks and cut her watermelon in half. Ish. It was more of a 6/4 ratio, if she was honest. After an agonizing moment of deliberation, she held out the larger half.

“Here you go!”

She had a whole patch of them, after all. She could be nice just this once.

He took it.

“A-ah, thank you.”

Then he stared at it.

“You’re supposed to eat it,” she provided cheekily, taking full advantage of her toddlerness to poke fun at him. “Like this!” She took a monstrous, nostril filling bite out of her half of the watermelon, chomping sloppily as juice dribbled down her chin. Ah, it was a sweet one!

He huffed a little laugh and took a—much smaller, the coward—bite of his own.

“Is it yummy?” He nodded gently and she grinned, turning back to her own juicy snack.

“U-um, who are you?”

“I’m Kyou!” No last names. Everyone knew that. Uchiha kids didn’t even wear the family crest until they came of age at 15— _if_ they came of age. Theoretically, she was perfectly safe. “And you?”

“Ah, I’m Itama.”

Right. That was his name.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said honestly around a mouthful of melon. “I’ve never seen you around here before. You haven’t been stealing my watermelons, have you?”

Fuck! Now he knew there were more!

He shook his head emphatically. “No! I haven’t, I promise! I was just…” He trailed off.

Drat. Her oh so clever plan to get some exposition backfired.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said as she pat him on the shoulder. “I don’t need to know.”

He smiled grimly. “Thanks. It’s just…My brother died.”

Yeah. She figured that was it. She pat him again.

“I’m sorry to hear that. He must have been a great brother, if you cried so hard.”

He stiffened under her hand. Ah, she fucked up.

“I-I wasn’t crying!” He took an indignant bite of his watermelon. “Ninja’s don’t cry!”

Hoo, boy. Of all the things to be a constant across universes, it had to be toxic masculinity—toxic shinobilinity? Ninjalinity? Hrm.

“But it’s good to cry,” she began, drawing on her father’s—her _actual_ father, not Satan—explanation from when she was really a child. “Do you know why we cry, Itama-san? It’s because,” she barreled right over his reply. “Emotions are chemicals.”

“Huh?”

Oh. Right. Middle ages. Huh.

“Ah, chemicals are the things inside medicines which make them effective, ok? Just bear with me. So, when making medicine you need to make sure you have the right amount of every ingredient or it might not work, or it could make everything worse! It’s the same thing with emotions. If you have too much of one emotion, it throws off the balance of your mind, so your body has to get rid of the extra chemicals. Crying is the only way to do that. So, if you think about it, crying is a good thing, because it helps your mind reclaim its equilibrium.”

Itama stared at her, jaw hanging in shock. “Um…what?”

Ugh. Whatever. She hadn’t really expected him to understand, anyway. Wait. Weren’t Senju the medicine people? He should have understood a little bit, right?

“Look. You’ve got too much sadness in your body and if you don’t let it out it’ll stick and fester for forever. Just cry, my dude. I’m the only one here and I don’t care.” She took a big bite of watermelon to emphasize her point.

His gaze shifted from her to his watermelon. Then, he started to cry.

Poor watermelon, all covered in tears. ~~It rolled off of the table, when somebody sneezed. ~~

Kyou busied herself with eating her watermelon down to the rind, letting the boy beside her cry himself out. She tossed the hollow remains of her snack to the side and leaned back on her hands, looking up at the sky. Hm. She’d have to get home soon. Wouldn’t want to have a search party find her secret treasure.

Or her new friend.

She turned to Itama to say goodbye, but froze when she met someone else’s gaze entirely. Sharp red eyes glared at her from over Itama’s shoulder, white skin and whiter hair practically glowing in the summer sun. The White Devil of the Senju, Uchiha’s Bane, had come to pick up his brother. Who was crying. Into a watermelon.

Well, fuck.

She raised her hand in a wave. “Yo.”

Itama startled and looked over his shoulder. “Aniki, wh-what are you doing here?”

Tobirama’s scowl deepened, red eyes never leaving her face. “Father sent me to get you. What are you doing here with…this?”

This? _This?_ What the fuck? Just call her a Mudblood why don’t ya?

She leveled her most unimpressed expression on him, channeling her uncle Tajima directly. “Wow. Worked real hard on that, did you?”

“Tobi, please,” Itama interjected, waving his hand in a placating motion. “Kyou-kun’s really nice. See? He gave me a watermelon!”

Ugh. _Kun._ Even with her hair falling loose around her shoulders, leather band long lost to the wilds, she was still called a boy. Was it Izuna’s hand-me-down kimono? Her ninja training? The way she spoke?

The one time she’d used _watashi_ as a joke, she’d ended up with a concussion. It was _ore_ or nothing in her house.

At lease Baa-chan called her _chan_. Baa-chans could call anyone _chan_.

She smiled at the older—definitely older, this time—boy. “Do you want some? I don’t usually like sharing, but Itama-san was sad. You’re probably sad, too, right? I can go grab a melon for you—.”

“Not necessary.”

Uh, rude?

“Uh, rude?”

It was a good thought, a valid one, and it deserved to be voiced.

His face twisted in shock. Had anyone ever called him out on his behavior before? Unlikely, given his place as Hashirama’s brother.

“Hmph,” she turned her head away from him in a display of bratty insolence. “I didn’t want to share with you, anyway.”

Haha, she could _hear_ him seething. Glorious.

She stood and made a deliberate show of stretching. No fear here, nope! Then, she stepped out onto the water, crossing back to her side of the river. The brothers began speaking in hushed tones, words too low and fast for her to hear as she carefully managed her chakra. They were still arguing—it sounded like they were, anyway—when she pulled another, smaller, watermelon from her patch.

“Hey, sourpuss!”

“Ex _cuse_ me?” He sputtered.

“Catch!”

The watermelon soared across the river and landed in Tobirama’s arms easily, his red eyes wide with surprise.

“You can share that with anyone else who’s sad,” she shouted over to him. “I have to go home now, before my asshole cousins come looking for me and find my melons! You better not tell anyone where they are! I’ll know if you do!” She pointed to her eyes and then at the Senju brothers, her cute little face scrunched up in overdone menace. Then, she smiled widely and waved. “Bye! See you next time!”

Tobirama’s “There won’t be a next time!” followed her as she ran through the forest, a big smile on her face.

Ah~♡! Tobirama was so _cute!!_ She had a feeling, if she ever saw him again, he'd be super fun to mess with. That pale skin flushed so easily! Haha!

“Kyou.”

Fuck.

Not even ten minutes from the gates of the village, Satan called her name. She sighed inwardly for not leaving when she should have and turned to greet him.

“Hello, father.”

He looked her up and down. “Where have you been?”

“At the river.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Training.”

“Really?”

No. “Yes, father.”

“Then,” he squat down to her level, smirking as he ran a thumb over her sticky cheek. “What’s all this?”

Shit! The watermelon!

He must have seen the panic in her eyes because he started laughing. The sadist. She jumped on the opportunity presented by his good mood.

“Please, father,” she begged, wrapping both her tiny hands around one of his. “Please don’t tell on me. I don’t want to share!”

You see, kids, the key to charming Shuji is to act as selfish and unfriendly as possible. Her asshole cousins? Unworthy of the melon.

“I grew them all by myself! Why should they get any?”

Throw in some boasting and unwillingness to share—both glory and melons—and voila! The Demon King is temporarily tamed!

Temporarily.

Shuji smirked down at her, clearly pleased by her disregard for her kinsmen. “Of course, they shouldn’t. But you’ll need to cover your tracks if you don’t want to lose what you’ve gained.”

What? Like him and his not-son? He was lucky his mother loved him, or they’d all be dead.

He wiped at her face roughly, scrubbing it clean of watermelon innards like some kind of parent. When he was done, he smiled down at her. “Have you managed the Fireball, yet?”

She shook her head, hands twisting nervously. “All that comes out it smoke.” It wasn’t like she _hadn’t_ tried. She understood the concept—both with the sharingan and without—but her chakra just wouldn’t cooperate.

Satan nodded grimly, ruffling her hair with what anyone else might have called fondness. “I understand. It is especially difficult for you. Don’t worry, Madara didn’t manage it until he was five.”

Ah, Madara, the paragon against which she was always compared. Honestly, Shuji was lucky she wasn’t really a child or she’d have ended up with a complex by now. Plus, Madara was literally the sweetest thing. The nicest of boys. The only cousin who wasn’t an asshole.

And by that she meant he was generally polite and didn’t go out of his way to piss her off—he did it plenty of times by accident, though. Such low standards this life has forced upon her.

“I don’t understand.” She really didn’t, this time, she wasn’t playing cute. “Why can’t I just make it a Waterball? Or an Iceball? Why does it have to be fire?”

Satan sighed, looking for all the world an exasperated parent. “I understand your frustration, Kyou, but the Fireball is a right of passage for the Uchiha. Everyone must know how to use it.”

“Even if water beats fire?”

“Yes, eve—.”

His black eyes bored into hers, expression suddenly taut and anxious. Then, he grinned, the expression pulling at his scar until his face morphed into something less than human.

“On second thought,” the Demon King crooned. “An Iceball sounds like a great idea. Let’s work on that, shall we?”

Fuck.


	5. Science Bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. I need a list of animals with chaotic energy. For no reason. No reason at all.
> 
> Check the comments for actual science.

The air was taking a turn for the chilly, carrying leaves of red and gold in playful swirls across the forest floor. It was autumn, and soon Kyou would be four. She had no idea when exactly, of course, because no one ever celebrated her birthday the way she had in her previous life, but that was fine. She remembered being born in autumn, so, once the first snows fell, she just added another year to her life. Easy.

What wasn’t easy was the stupid Iceball.

She really shouldn’t have brought it up. It was all Satan cared about, now, and she’d lost her precious ‘but I’m a water type’ excuse. Her chakra control exercises got harder as her father lost patience and she went to bed sore and exhausted late at night only to rise and repeat it all at the ass crack of dawn every morning. Her cousins took the opportunity to be even bigger assholes than normal, calling her all manner of names and poking fun at her inability to master the Clan jutsu even with her sharingan.

It was an all around bad time.

Her only respite came when the Clan took on larger missions. All the active duty adults and boys older than five left the village, and Kyou could wheedle out of group training since she was so obviously better than the other kids her age. On days like that, she almost always found herself at the river.

It had nothing to do with the possibility of certain Senju boys being there. Not at all. ~~Except, yeah, it did.~~ The river was a good place to practice her unorthodox jutsu away from prying eyes, and a ready source of water for her other training.

Like now, she was seated on the river bank, _alone_ , with a jug of water nestled between her legs. She’d long ago mastered moving water with her chakra—an exercise she likened to Naruto’s Rasengan training, with the water balloons—and had graduated to manipulating it in other ways. She took her role as the only Uchiha waterbender very seriously, though she sometimes lamented her uniqueness. Any other element would have made her life so much easier, but no, she had to be _super_ special. Peh.

She placed her hands on the sides of the jug, the clay cold under her hands. Slowly, gently, she coaxed her chakra into it, the water’s own inherent energy welcoming hers like an old friend.

In her past life, she’d been a lack luster student at a prestigious school. Just one of a hundred nerds all forced into the same space. While her peers competed over the .01 percentage that would decide valedictorian, she’d been perfectly satisfied with the mediocre prize of four extra science credits. No big deal. Not like she used them for anything. All her scholarships went down the drain when college proved too stressful for a student accustomed to effortless excellence.

Now, though, her high school awesomeness made her the most educated person on the planet. And by golly she was gonna use that education, this time!

Her understanding of physics told her that the whole “ _wind_ \+ _water_ = _ice_ ” rule Shuji tried so hard to shove down her throat was nonsense. Complete and utter bullshit. Even an actual four year old from her old world would know that.

So, instead of trying to access another kind of chakra she probably didn’t have anyway, she focused on getting the water to occupy less space. By decreasing the space between water molecules, she would lessen the amount of movement they made, thus forcing them into a solid shape, thus making ice!

It was science!

And it worked! Mostly. She usually ended up with a layer of ice on top of slush, but it was proof that this weird Naruto world used the same laws of physics she was used to—it just broke them whenever it felt like it.

This time, she was determined to get a solid block of ice. It would be the perfect thing to show Satan and waylay the inevitable beating that followed failure.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and focused. Ice. Ice. Solid, non-slushy ice. Come on, water, you can do it! Be a solid!

“What are you doing?”

Her eyes flew open and something cracked ominously. It was the jug. The jug cracked. Water spilled out from the holes in the clay all over her kimono. She leapt her feet with a startled yelp, and someone laughed.

She threw her hottest glare at the pair of brothers on the other side of the river, willing her rage to reach them.

Itama choked on his laughter, tanned skin paling several shades. Tobirama pulled a kunai from thin air and brandished it at her, red eyes cautious and afraid.

What?

Her anger faded in the wake of confusion. “Um, guys? What’s wrong?”

“You cannot be serious,” Tobirama spat. “What was that?”

“What was what? Seriously, what’s going on?”

She stepped forward only to have Tobirama force his brother back. She turned, looking over her shoulder for a possible threat.

“I don’t get it,” she called over to them. “There’s nothing here, guys—oof!”

Her face was pressed into the dirt, the sharp edge of a kunai against the back of her neck. Tobirama pressed a knee to the small of her back, pinning her in place with his superior weight.

“What the fuck,” she exclaimed, spitting out mud and random detritus. “Seriously? What’s wrong with you?”

She could just barely make out the red of his eyes from the corner of hers.

“Don’t lie,” he hissed in her ear. “You did something. I felt it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she insisted. “You’re the ones who broke my concentration—and my jug! If anyone should be mad, here, it’s me!”

“Aniki,” Itama’s soft, quivering voice cut through their argument. “I-I don’t think Kyou-kun meant to do it.”

“Do what? I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“See?”

Tobirama didn’t look at his brother, but his grip on Kyou did loosen. She took the opportunity to kawarimi with a large pottery shard, the old jug already filled with her chakra, anyway. She made a big show of dusting herself off, using the time to calm her nerves.

Holy shit, Tobi was fast. How the fuck did a six—seven?—year old get that fast? Suddenly, she was reminded that, one day, she’d probably have to fight him. Shit.

She looked down at her muddy kimono with a groan. “Baa-chan is gonna kill me.”

“Ne, Kyou-kun,” Itama began hesitantly. “Do you know what you did?”

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously, not.”

Tobirama glared at her over crossed arms. “You expect us to believe that?”

She began removing her kimono, the wet fabric clinging to her skin as she stripped down to her loin cloth—little kids were sexless beings, so they shouldn’t notice her secret. “The truth doesn’t stop being true just ‘cause you’re too proud to recognize it.”

Kyou dunked the kimono into the river, the freezing water biting at her hands as she swished it around to clean it. It was still a bit muddy when she pulled it out, but it was better than before. Calling on her chakra again, she called to the water in the fabric, pushing it to do what it was already doing, but faster. The water drained from her kimono, obeying the call of gravity and rejoining the river in a steady stream rather than slow drips.

“Woah, Kyou-kun, how are you doing that?”

She looked over her shoulder at Itama. “Chakra.”

Tobirama snorted. “Obviously.”

 _ObViOuSlY._ Peh!

She stuck her tongue out at the pale boy, taking cruel pleasure in the mud on his high waisted hakama.

When she put the kimono back on, it was damp, but not horridly so. It would dry before she left for home.

“You guys wanna tell me what just happened, or…?”

The brothers shared a glance, clearly having one of those silent conversations siblings were known for. If she knew them better, she might have been able to decipher some of it. Alas, this was only, like, the fifth time they’d seen each other. It was more than she’d expected, to be sure—she figured Tobirama would forbid his baby bro from fraternizing with potential enemies. Instead, he just…came with him? He just sat in corners mostly and did his own thing while Kyou and Itama played ninja games and stuff. This was the most he’d ever spoken to her, now that she thought about it.

“You hit us with killing intent,” Tobirama said at last, scowling so deeply it would probably become permanent—oh, wait.

She cocked her head at him, taking a moment to lament the world where kids knew what killing intent felt like. Then,

“Oh.”

A flush crept up Tobirama’s neck. “’Oh’? That’s all you have to say?”

She smiled sheepishly up at him. “Um, I’m sorry? I honestly forgot I could do that.”

She had. Her amazing genius wasn’t the only reason she had no friends, after all. Hell, Satan had named her after the horrifying skill—the day she’d learned that, she sabotaged all his sandals. The beating had been worth it. Alas, all her attempts at harnessing her anger went to waste. It activated whenever it wanted. She was just glad its favorite victim seemed to be Izuna.

“Wait, that’s just a thing you do?” Itama looked horrified. “Even most adults can’t use it like that!”

“If you knew you could use it,” Tobirama interjected. “Then why didn’t you realize you were doing it to us?”

She shrugged, crouching down to pick up the pieces of her water jug. “I just normally only use it on my family, I guess. It’s not really something I can control, and I haven’t been around you guys long enough for it to happen, yet.”

“On your family?”

Kyou laughed in the face of Itama’s incredulity. “What? They’re assholes. They piss me off and get hit with KI. I have a temper, ok? It’s no big deal.”

“How old are you?”

Tobirama’s question was so unexpected, Kyou cut herself on the edge of a ceramic piece. “I’m almost four,” she answered around the finger in her mouth. “Why?”

Itama’s horror and surprise finally became one, unnamable expression in stark contrast with his brother’s perpetual grump.

“You can walk on water, perform kawarimi, use your chakra to manipulate water, and use killing intent at three years old? You must be some kind of—.”

“Freak?” The grin on her face was a feral thing, all pride and challenge. “Monster? Aberration of nature? A bad omen the Clan should have left out in the snow to die? Please, tell me. I promise it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

His glare lost some of its bite, red eyes wide from her tirade. “I was going to say genius.”

She snorted. “I’ve been called that, too. It’s never a compliment.”

Unless her grandmother said it, but still. Satan didn’t count.

“Kyou-kun,” Itama’s face was so comically sad, his sorrow rolling off him in tangible waves. “Do people really say all those things?”

She huffed. “Yeppers. I told you, my family is primarily assholes.”

The heterochromatic boy perked up. “So, not everyone?”

Jeeze, it was really important to him, huh?

“No. My Baa-chan is nice. And, I guess, my mother’s never said anything mean to me, but she’s never said anything to me, period, so I don’t know if that counts.”

“Kyou-kun.”

She waved off his pity like a persistent mosquito. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I blasted you with hatred, or whatever. Can we talk about something else?”

Itama looked like he might pursue the issue, but Tobirama came to her rescue.

“What were you doing when we interrupted you? It looked like a chakra exercise.”

She sighed bodily. “That’s because it was. I—.” She cut herself off. Fuck. How much could she tell them without outing herself as an Uchiha? Sure, they were sympathetic now, but Uchihas were enemy number one. All their five days of friendship would go down the drain if she spilled too much.

Still…Tobirama _was_ the greatest suiton user of his generation, right? Or was it ever? Either way, he might be able to help her out…

Hrm.

“Ok, here’s the thing.” She sat on one of the larger rocks, crossing her legs and propping her elbows on her knees. “I’m the only one in my Clan with suiton chakra. Everyone else has either katon or raiton.”

“Woah,” Itama said, popping a squat on another rock. “That’s so weird!”

She snorted. “So I’ve been told. The problem is,” she continued, barreling over Itama’s frantic apologies. “My Clan has this coming of age jutsu everyone has to learn before we can take missions or go out to fight. It’s katon, so I suck ass at it. I convinced Satan to let me try a water variant, but I suck ass at that, too.” She spread her hands in a ‘what can you do’ gesture. “He’ll probably beat me within an inch of my life if I can’t get it by the time winter rolls around, and I’d rather avoid that if I can. Think either of you can help me?”

Given their stunned expressions, maybe being so frank about her situation was a bad idea.

“It’s fine if you can’t—.”

“Tobi can help you.” Itama said it with such surety, his confidence all but illuminating the air around him.

Maybe…maybe the animators hadn’t been exaggerating when they worked on Hashirama. Itama bounced from emotion to emotion with an elasticity that made Kyou’s head hurt. If his brother was anything like him, she felt very sorry for Madara.

She looked at Tobirama, surprised to find him looking at her. “You don’t have to,” she said while sincerely hoping he would. “I can figure it out on my own.”

He hummed, red eyes calculating in a way she’d never seen before. “What are the hand signs for the jutsu?”

“Hey, now I can’t just tell you that! You’ll figure out what Clan I’m from, and I kinda like this whole plausible deniability thing we’ve got going.”

The Look™ he gave her made her feel all kinds of stupid. A first, as far as this new life was concerned. “Plenty of jutsu share hand signs. Just tell me.”

Hmph. Fine then. “It’s Snake Ram Monkey Boar Horse Tiger.”

His hands blurred as he performed the signs. Nothing happened. Not even smoke.

Was she… _better_ than Tobirama at the Fireball???

He huffed, then tried again, ending the jutsu on Dog, this time. Nothing happened, but he seemed satisfied with something.

“Try ending on Dog.”

Ok…?

She had no idea how that was supposed to help, but he was the one with an entire scroll full of forbidden jutsu he invented, not her. She did as she was told.

Immediately she noticed the difference. Her chakra was actually answering her call! It built up in the back of her throat and she opened her mouth to let a horrifying stream of water out. It came out her nose, too, so nasty. Ugh, she wanted to gag.

But it was progress!

She wiped her face and grinned at the older boy. “That was awesome!”

His smug look of superiority was tainted by the slightest flush on his pale cheeks. “It was simple. Tiger is for fire, Dog is for water.”

Wait, really?

“I had no idea,” she said honestly. “Satan never told me anything like that.”

“Who’s Seitan,” Itama asked innocently.

Her good mood soured.

“He’s my father,” she said with a sigh. “His name’s actually Shuji, but I call him Satan.”

“Why, what does it mean?”

“Hmm, I guess the closest equivalent would be Saidai Mao.”

“Ultimate Demon King!?!”

She laughed at Itama’s expression. “Yep! It suits him perfectly.”

“Your father will beat you within an inch of your life if you don’t get this jutsu down by winter?” Tobirama sounded confused, and she was momentarily proud of old Butsuma for keeping his kids as sheltered as they were.

“Yeah. That is, if he doesn’t kill me outright.”

“What kind of father would kill his child?”

Oh, Itama.

“The kind who already has.” She grit her teeth as the memory replayed in her mind’s eye, perfectly clear with sharingan sharpness. “He killed my brother, you know, because he wasn’t perfect. He was born with only one hand, so Satan killed him for being useless and then told everyone he’s died of illness. Nobody bothered to check the coffin.”

Itama was horrified, as expected, but Tobirama looked ill. Ah. His albinism might have been treated similarly, had he been Satan’s child. Lucky him.

Maybe…she should stop traumatizing the poor boys.

She leapt down off the rock and smiled up at Tobirama, the expression genuine for once. “Thanks so much for your help, Tobi-san. I might actually live to see spring, now.”

Just one more, for the road.


	6. Frenemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's hoping I got the science right!
> 
> I know I said I didn't have a reason for asking for animals with chaotic energy, but I do. Please give me some animals.

She’d finally mastered the fucking Iceball.

It turned out, that whole _water + wind = ice_ nonsense that she’d so easily dismissed was actually grounded in some fact.

She’d managed to wheedle an explanation of the hand signs out of Junsuke-jii-sama, and began trying to rearrange them in her favor. She couldn’t just do whatever, though, since her end product still had to resemble the original Fireball to count. So, instead, she focused on the two elemental signs. The first, Snake, was for lightning while the last, Tiger, was for fire. She’d already swapped out Tiger for Dog, courtesy of Tobirama, and she’d spent so much time spitting out water she felt like a fountain. When she switched out Snake for Dog, she ended up vomiting and losing a tooth from the pressure. So that was a no. She wasn’t about to use Tiger and risk melting her face off with steam or something equally ghastly, so she tried Bird, the wind sign.

And it made a difference.

Water came out of her mouth like normal, and she initially dismissed the modification as a dud. It became quickly apparent that it wasn’t. In a matter of seconds, the air around her became almost unbearably hot and dry in radical contrast with the water which froze once it hit the ground.

It took Kyou several more attempts before she realized what was happening. By using Bird, she was essentially creating a pathway for the heat in the water to escape, letting it freeze much faster than her molecular encouragement had allowed. She tried the same concept on another jug of water and cackled at her success.

_Wind + Water = Ice!_

She was still allowed to be mad about it, though. She never claimed not to be petty.

The look of horror on Izuna’s pale face when he saw her demonstrate it for the elders and his father~. That she would savor. It was already memorized, courtesy of the sharingan. Ah, such a wonderful thing it was.

The Iceball itself was terrifying. A massive fountain of water erupted from her face, rolling in on itself and freezing around anything caught inside it, like a water bottle shaken after a night in the freezer. The ice crystals were pretty, and some of them were as big as Izuna’s head.

Hah!

Oh, god, she really needed a better hobby than torturing children. She’d end up just like Satan at this rate.

Like his son, Tajima looked like he’d swallowed an entire lemon. Madara, on the other hand, actually congratulated her, enveloping her in one of the few hugs she could remember receiving in this new life. It was all she could do not to cry.

Apparently, the Iceball was more controversial than she’d anticipated, and the council of elders argued about it for days before they announced that she’d completed the Uchiha rite of passage. They made it obvious that it was a special exception though, made just for her and her suiton. Because she totally needed more enemies.

“Kyou,” Satan’s scary face was glowing with pride. “You’ve done well. I’ve already petitioned the council to allow you into combat with me.”

Wait, what?

She stared up at her father with wide, frightened eyes. “But, father, I’m still three.”

His smile widened, that horrifying manic edge creeping into his expression as he pat her head. “I know! You’ve made me very proud, Kyou.”

“A-aren’t I still too little?”

His fingers fisted in her hair. “What was that, Kyou? I didn’t quite hear you.”

Aw, fuck. “I’m so little! I can’t go fight when I’m so much smaller than everyone! A-and I’m slow! I’ll die, father! I don’t want to die!”

Ah, how desperate she was, to be clinging to Satan in her hour of need.

Satan stared down at her, his smile gone. She stared at her reflection in his black eyes, quivering in his grip as she waited for his reply. It had been a long time since her last outburst, and she still winced when she stepped wrong. Surely he wouldn’t hurt her too badly if he planned to take her out on missions with him, right?

Fuckity fuck fuck.

He shoved her. Hard. She hit the ground with a thud and a gasp as she struggled to get air back into her lungs. He pressed his sandaled foot into her back, leaning over his knee to scowl down at her.

“Then fight.”

He walked away, leaving Kyou in the leaf littered dirt. She lay there for a moment, just breathing, before she pushed her hand underneath herself.

“Kyou?”

Shit.

She looked up into the wide eyes of her least favorite cousin, the look of softly confused horror completely out of place on him.

“Go ahead,” she spat at him. “I know you want to say it. This is what I deserve, right? For being a freak of nature?”

Izuna flinched as she threw his own words back at him, mouth gaping open and shut like a fish out of water. She pulled herself to her feet with a groan, glaring at her cousin with open malice. Now would be a perfect time for her namesake killing intent to kick in, but it seemed her luck had been wasted on the stupid jutsu.

She rubbed at her face, wiping blood from her nose as she stomped past him. She had more important things to do than mollycoddle a brat who’d done nothing but add to her trauma. Not that she had any.

Fuck.

Once inside her house, she crawled into the bed. It was weird, sharing with both her mother and Satan, but she’d long ago grown accustomed to it. In winter, she couldn’t be bothered to care, her father’s warmth the only thing keeping out the cold. Her grandmother lived in another house, and she often wondered how the older woman managed during those cold months. She seemed fine, though.

Her mother didn’t react as Kyou snuggled up to her, tears welling in her eyes.

“It’s not fair,” she complained quietly. “I don’t want to fight. I just want to be strong enough to live.”

Her mother said nothing.

With a sniff, Kyou pulled back to regard her mother.

“I hope I look like you,” she told the unresponsive woman. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I end up looking like Satan. Are permanent henges a thing?”

No reply.

“Y’know, I bet he did this to you. It totally makes sense. He can barely stand it when I _breathe_ next to him, so you must have driven him insane, huh?”

A blank stare was her only reply.

“One day, when I get strong enough, I’m gonna leave this shit hole Clan. I’ll take you with me, and we’ll go to the Senju so they can fix you up! I know, I know, the Senju are our enemies! I’ll tell you a secret: I’m actually friends with some. Don’t tell Satan! Who knows how he’d use that.” She smiled crookedly at her mother’s thin face. “I’ll get you out of here, Kaa-chan. I promise!”

Sometimes she wondered why she was so fixated on the woman. It wasn’t like they’d ever bonded over anything. They’d never held a single conversation, never shared meaningful glances, never fought over anything trivial the way she had with her first mother. Still, Kyou was attached to Uchiha Hitomi in a way that transcended reason.

She sat herself down in her mother’s lap, snuggling against her like the child she was, and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Her worst nightmare came true sooner than she’d hoped.

Satan helped her put on her—conveniently child sized—armor, the leather scales dyed red and smelling strongly of hardening lacquer. His big hands were surprisingly deft as he tied her spaulders in place, making quick work of the mess of cords. She’d need help getting out of it, too, and she absently wondered how he got his own armor on without help. He fastened her sword belt in place and gave her a once over.

“Lift your arms, Kyou. Can you move freely?”

She did as she was told, twisting so he could see if anything needed adjusting and trying in vain to ignore the twisting knot in her gut. She was still so small, and she knew she wasn’t as physically able as her older cousins, let alone adults. Was Satan so desperate to have her prove herself that he’d risk her life?

He nodded his approval—she looked like a mini him, so of course he was happy—and pulled her over to him. He gathered her hair up into a ponytail, hands rough as he fastened it in place.

“Do you have any questions, Kyou?”

Oh, did she. “Why do we wear sandals with full body armor? It seems kind of dumb to risk stubbing your toe on a battlefield.”

His hands froze in her hair and she stilled in response, only relaxing when he began to chuckle softly.

“That is a good question. I’ve never thought about it.”

“Really?” She turned around to look up at him, doing her utmost to look small and vulnerable. She pointed at her feet. “But they’re so silly.”

He smiled, looking the perfect picture of an exasperated father. “It’s tradition, Kyou. And I don’t know anyone who’s stubbed their toe in battle.”

Ah, he’d jinxed it. It was totally gonna happen now. Probably to her.

He placed a hand on her head and gently guided her out of their home and into the village, snow falling gently from an overcast sky. The rest of the men were gathered near the gate, their armor all varying shades of red or brown, the uchiwa emblazoned on their backs. She stuck to her father’s side like a limpet, refusing to even look at the group of armored children. Shuji let her, too, keeping his hand on her head as he spoke with his peers.

“Hey, Kyou-kun, are you ready?”

She looked up at Madara, eyes widening as her father’s grip on her head tightened. Fuck. She wasn’t supposed to talk to him. It was a shame, considering he was one of the only people who didn’t treat her like literal shit, but she could be his friend or live, not both.

She nodded shakily, avoiding her cousin’s gaze. Izuna called him away, and Satan let her go when he left.

“Are you sure he should be going out with us,” one of the adults asked him. “He looks a little green.”

Shuji smiled in that way that made him look human, tightening Kyou’s ponytail with a distantly fond expression. “So did we, our first time out.”

His friends laughed and began reminiscing about their first battles. It was like a warped version of the Japanese first errand, with some of them recounting first _kills_.

Kyou felt like vomiting. If she vomited, maybe she could stay home and practice sewing with Baa-chan instead. Maybe cut her mom’s hair. Live to see tomorrow. Those sorts of things.

She didn’t want to kill anyone. Ever. She could barely handle killing chickens for dinner, how was she supposed to manage a whole ass person?

Her father crouched down in front of her, smiling softly as he ruffled her fringe. “Don’t worry Kyou. This is just about getting your feet wet. Don’t worry about fighting and just focus on surviving, alright? Leave the Senju bastards to us.”

Yeah. Right. She could do that.

God, why did it have to be the Senju?

Madara and Hashirama hadn’t met yet, as far as she knew. She figured Izuna’s behavior would tip her off, if anything, but he’d been the same old asshole for forever. How the hell did they manage to avoid meeting each other on the battlefield when their Clans fought so often?

Plot.

Kyou was not a main character. Hell, she probably didn’t even exist in the original timeline. The plot would not save her from meeting her only friends in the fight.

Tajima called out to the group and everyone leapt into the air, leaving Kyou fumbling as she rushed to catch up with them. She wasn’t the only one, she noticed. The children made up their own group, following in the wake of the adults. The strongest—Madara, Izuna, and the older kids—took point while Kyou struggled to keep up with kids a whole year older than her.

No one pointed it out, though. They would once they got home— _if_ they came home—but they all kept their gazes trained ahead, expressions grim in a way no child’s should be. It was unnerving, to say the least. They were rushing toward their potential doom, to fight against an enemy that would show children no mercy. How could they be so calm about it?

Maybe, if she was a normal kid with no other life to reference, she’d be just as calm.

But she wasn’t, so she was, instead freaking the fuck out.

Privately, of course, but still.

The sounds of voices and metal on metal reached her ears, indicating that they had caught up with the adults and would soon be expected to join the fray. Her cousins wasted no time, leaping down into the battle and taking up arms, but Kyou hesitated. She stood in a tree and looked down in horror at the battle. People were leaping across the clearing with inhuman speed, clashing in angry combat. Jutsus were launched with reckless abandon, giving new meaning to the term ‘friendly fire’.

She was supposed to just, jump in?

Sure, she new how to kill a grown man. It was a fundamental part of her training. She was too small to put any of it into practice, though, and everyone knew it. There was a reason kids only went into battle once they were five! She was four!

Kyou shuddered as a particularly pained scream cut over the din of battle and gathered her courage. There was only one thing to be done.

Run away!

She couldn’t _leave_ leave, obviously, but she could avoid most of the combat by staying in the trees on the outskirts of the clearing. Maybe, she could jump in and fight a Senju child? Not to the death! Just enough that her armor would get scuffed and she could say she did something.

Yeah, that would work.

Right?

“Hey, brat!”

Fuck!

She froze, waiting for whoever spoke to attack her. It was an adult voice, so her best bet was to run, but she couldn’t risk running right into them.

“L-leave me alone!”

That was _not_ an adult voice.

She moved quickly, coming to a stop when she found herself looking down at an all too familiar scene.

Five Uchiha men standing in an arcing row, a small child backed up against a rock as he stared up at them in terror.

Itama!

She had to move, had to do something! She knew what they would do to him if she didn’t! Move body, move!

Kyou landed behind her kinsmen, surprising them. They relaxed when they recognized her and one of them—the one who’d questioned her readiness back in the village, her father’s friend—smiled at her.

“Ah, Kyou, perfect timing! We’ve managed to corner one of Butsuma’s brats. His head will go a long way toward making you the Clan heir, don’t you think?”

Kyou met Itama’s wide eyes in stunned silence. The other men scolded the first for saying such things out loud, but their words and his rebuttal fell on cotton filled ears.

He wanted her to-to kill Itama? So she could take Madara’s place as heir? What the fuck?

How could one man go from paternal concern to bloodthirsty disregard in so little time? It hadn’t even been half an hour!

Itama looked at her with wide eyed recognition, fear in his eyes.

How the fuck could she kill Itama? He was barely bigger than she was. He liked spitting watermelon seeds in the air and cutting them with his kunai. He played hide and seek with her and sometimes let her win. He was just a little boy.

“Kyou, are you alri—!”

He choked on his words, the full weight of her anger falling on him and his comrades as she let it go. She turned burning eyes on him, memorizing his confused expression as her sharingan kicked in. Then, she pulled a kunai from her pouch and dove, jamming the blade into his exposed feet. He howled in pain, body automatically folding in on itself as he reached for his foot. She freed her kunai and forced it up into the underside of his jaw, using his own momentum to propel it up into his brain. His blood gushed over her hands as she shoved his gurgling head away from her, the sticky liquid making her hands slip as she dug through her pouch for more blades. The other Uchihas had begun to throw off her KI, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to fight them all off. If even one of them lived…

“Itama!” She called out to her friend as she cut through an attacker’s hamstring. “Help me!”

She didn’t check to see if he listened, focusing instead on her much larger, very angry opponents. Even if he ran, it would be a good outcome. Maybe he’d bring help.

Pft. As if.

She plunged her kunai into an uncle’s neck, leaving him for dead as she leapt to face another. Her sharingan mapped out their moves, but theirs were doing the same for hers. She’d lost the element of surprise, and there was no way she’d be able to win against grown Uchihas, even with Itama’s help. One of them raised a sword, the blade gleaming ominously as it bore down on her. She raised a kunai in defense, but knew she wasn’t strong enough to fend off such a blow.

A pale blur shoved her attacker back and Kyou recognized Tobirama’s white hair. He forced his opponent to the ground with his momentum, their blades sparking with the force of impact.

Her uncle was dead in seconds.

“You…You treacherous little shit!”

She barely managed to roll out of the way as one of the two remaining Uchihas lunged for her from behind. She quickly formed a series of hand signs starting and ending on Dog and blew him away with a pressurized stream of water to the face. His arms flailed as he tried to fend it off, but his struggles were brought to an abrupt end as Itama drove his own kunai into the back of his neck.

Only one uncle left. He’d watched everything go down with wide, unbelieving eyes. Now, he met and held Kyou’s gaze, smiling slightly.

“Shuji must be so proud.”

He crumpled like a piece of wet paper, though she wasn’t sure if it was her kunai between his eyes or Tobirama’s sword in his gut that did it.

Fuck.

She looked at the bodies strewn about the forest floor, their blood on her hands.

Fuck.

They looked like her, with dark hair and darker clothing under red armor.

_Fuck._

She vomited. Even with an empty stomach, she heaved, her hands braced on the ground as she strove to cleanse her every pore of the horrors she’d just wrought.

_Fuck._

She’d never forget it. Her sharingan wouldn’t let her. She’d always be able to conjure the memory of her father’s friends falling to her hands. Her uncles. Her _family._

**_Fuck_ ** _._

“K-Kyou-k-kun?” Itama’s voice was thin and weak, but it broke through the numbness blanketing her mind like a dart through a balloon. “Are you alright?”

She sat up on her knees, turning still burning eyes on her friend. He was as bloody as she was, she noticed, but the blood on _his_ hands belonged to his enemies.

“Alright? I just killed my uncle, and you’re asking if I’m alright?” She laughed, her body hurting from the strain of vomiting. Itama looked ashamed and she smiled. “Yes, actually. I am alright.”

Satan really would be proud, wouldn’t he?

**_Fuck_.**

“Why, I mean, I didn’t—You’re an Uchiha?”

Ah. So this was how it ended. Oh well. It was fun while it lasted.

She closed her eyes, willing her eyes back to their natural black. “Yep. And you’re a Senju.” She struggled to her feet, carefully avoiding looking at her sticky hands. Her gaze landed on Itama’s confused expression. “It’s pretty obvious, at this point, huh?”

A blade pressed itself against her throat, and she followed the length of the sword to Tobirama. He was glaring fiercely at her, his face framed by that weirdly shaped hitai ate of his. His armor was dark green, she noted, and she vaguely wondered when he’d start wearing his iconic blue.

“Come on, Tobi,” she crooned. “We both know that if you were gonna kill me you’d have done it, by now.”

His expression soured further, and he put himself between her and his brother, never once lowering his blade.

She huffed, insulted. “If I was gonna kill _him_ I’d have done it when my uncle told me to.”

Instead, she’d killed her uncle. Uncles. Plural.

**_ Fuck. _ **

Itama placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Aniki, he saved me.”

Yeah. She had, hadn’t she. That’s what she wanted, right? To save Itama? And, now, the world was down five whole child murderers.

That was…pretty sweet, actually. ~~ The only murderer who mattered was still at large though. ~~

She took in a deep, deep breath, letting it out in a voiced exhale. Then, she met Tobirama’s eyes.

“I’m sorry we can’t be friends anymore,” she said honestly. “For the record, I really liked you guys.”

“Kyou-kun—.”

“Maybe one day,” she cut Itama off. “We won’t have to fight anymore, and we can be friends again.”

She turned away from the brothers, trusting them not to stab her in the back as she trudged away from them. Tears began falling down her face, and by the time someone found her she was sobbing uncontrollably against a tree.

“Kyou-kun, are you alright?”

Madara’s hands pushed her hair from her face, concern etched into his cute face as he tried to calm her down. The battle must have ended if he was free to deal with her like that.

“It’s alright, Kyou,” he said encouragingly. “Everyone feels like this after their first kill. It gets better, I promise.”

It _shouldn’t_ get better. She didn’t want to be desensitized to murder, ending lives like they meant nothing. She didn’t want to look at a child and see a tool for her own advancement.

She didn’t want to be like her father.

“Kyou.”

Speak of Satan, and he shall appear.

She didn’t have it in her to protest when he picked her up, holding her against him like they weren’t both wearing bloodstained armor in the middle of a killing field. He pressed a hand against the back of her head, forcing her face against the steel of his spaulders. He spoke, voice low, and Kyou’s very soul roiled.

“I’m proud of you, Kyou.”


	7. Aminals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I commissioned more art! Here’s teenage Kyou on [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760889/chapters/58456516) and [Tumblr](https://66.media.tumblr.com/6c3a04880bc04e8cbac43a54b666c89d/e8c5a0adaa00e6e3-79/s540x810/7c0859741506184218410c75b5cab7a7f40f6d5d.png).
> 
> Thanks to everyone who suggested animals!
> 
> I feel the need to note that the last chapter ended in late autumn/early winter. This one ends in early spring of the next year. Am I going too fast?

Uchiha Shuji looked down at his daughter. She was curled up under the threadbare blanket on their bed, snuggled close to her mother’s side, as if the woman could offer some comfort. She’d been like that since the end of her first battle, refusing to speak to anyone in an infantile show of defiance. Tajima had openly criticized Shuji’s decision to take her out a year early, and the faction supporting Kyou as a potential heir to the Clan had fallen silent.

Shit.

It was his mother’s censure which stung the most.

The old woman had looked at him with barely concealed disdain, running gnarled fingers through her grandchild’s hair.

“What did you expect, Shuji,” she chided softly. “She’s still a girl, no matter how you dress her up. There are things she just can’t do.”

Under normal circumstances, Kyou would have vehemently denied that assertion and proclaimed she was as good as any boy—a sentiment Shuju shared and encouraged—but now she just lay in her grandmother’s lap and sniffed pathetically.

Where was the spitfire that insisted on defying him at every turn, eyes filled with mischief? This…lump… was _not_ his child.

He sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Kyou.”

She burrowed deeper into the mattress.

“Kyou,” he said again, firmer this time. “Talk to me. I can’t fix the problem if I don’t know what it is.”

Again, she ignored him. He knew his child well enough to know that forcing the matter would only result in more silence—she got her stubborn streak from him, after all—so he reigned in his anger as he reached out and pulled the blanket off of her.

She curled in on herself, hiding her face beneath a waterfall of hair.

“Kyou,” he hooked his hands underneath her, pulling her into his arms. “I understand. A first kill is a terrible thing, but necessary. They would have killed you if you hadn’t killed them first.”

She didn’t reply, choosing instead to hide her face behind her hands.

He was rapidly losing patience, but he held on. “Kyou, you can’t keep acting like this. Life will only get worse for you the longer you hide yourself away. I know you know that.”

She sniffed.

“Would you like something to do?” He forced the words out through gritted teeth. “I can find something for you to work on that will keep you from going on any missions for a while. Would you like that?”

She looked up at him, dark eyes limpid and wide.

Finally, a reaction.

“I’m sure Junsuke-jii-sama can dig up some old scrolls for you,” he continued, encouraged. “After what you did with the Fireball, I have every confidence you can bend any of the Clan jutsu to suit your suiton.”

Her thick straight brows furrowed and she fisted a hand in his kimono. “C-can I? Please?”

Her voice was weak and hoarse from weeks of disuse, but she’d spoken. It was a step in the right direction, and Shuji privately congratulated himself for holding out as long as he had.

“Of course, Kyou,” he said with a smile. “So long as you keep up your training. We can’t have you falling behind, now can we?”

Her expression closed off some, but she nodded, burying her face in his chest. He ran a hand over her silky hair, glad she’d finally come to her senses. Perhaps his mother was right, to an extent. He could still vividly remember his own first kill, though his sharingan had not activated until several years after. The scent of cooking meat had made him nauseous for weeks before his friends had managed to coerce him into eating it again. How much worse must it be for his child? A girl of playful disposition, with no friends due to her genius and position in the Clan, struggling alone with only a living corpse for comfort?

If he thought about it that way, she was actually doing quite well.

He stood, carrying Kyou with him as he left their home. She hid her face in her crook of his neck, feather soft hair tickling slightly. He glared at the children who crossed his path, daring them to poke fun at Kyou. They were so different from her, so stupid and immature, and he once again thanked the Gods for granting him an exceptional child. He wasn’t sure he could have lived with one like them.

Or if one like them could have lived with him.

Perhaps it was just a father’s pride, but his daughter was also, undoubtedly, much better looking than any of the other children in the Clan.

She certainly stood out from the pale, washed out crowd, her mother’s darker coloring granting her a vibrance lacking in the rest of their family. She was taller than the other girls her age by at least half a head, and he had a sneaking suspicion she’s inherited her mother’s willowy frame, as well. Poor thing had his face, though. The idea of a woman with his scowl had him choking on laughter, and he applauded his decision to raise Kyou as a man. Even then, it was a little unfortunate.

He’d never claimed to be a handsome man.

Junsuke-jii-sama looked up at him in surprise from where he sat on the engawa of the council hall, the grandest building in the village. He was in the middle of a game of go, his partner, Genma-jii-sama, another of the elders who supported Kyou.

“Ah, Shuji-kun,” Junsuke said with a smile and a concerned glance at Kyou. “What brings you here?”

He bowed slightly. “Elders, I have come to ask for access to the Clan scrolls. Kyou will be working on ninjutsu for the next year until he is ready to go out on missions again.”

The old men exchanged a glance, their expressions brightening.

“Is that so? I’m sure we can find something that will suit him, can’t we Kyou-kun?”

Shuji handed his daughter over to her teacher, watching as the two elders escorted her into the hall. He was confident they would find something suitable for her position as heir, something that would mark her as a step above her peers—above Madara—despite her breakdown.

* * *

Kyou sneezed.

The dust in the Clan archives was inches thick, undisturbed for who knew how many years. Odd, considering how central some of the jutsu contained there were to the Uchiha identity, according to Junsuke-jii-sama.

She’d spent more time indoors than out in the past few months, and she had a feeling she knew more about the history of the Clan than a lot of the elders at that point. There was no mention of Indra Ootsutsuki, of course, but it made sense that their records wouldn’t go that far back. The fight with the Senju went back for centuries, though, and if she wasn’t a dimension hopper she might have lost hope for her friendship with Tobirama and Itama.

She hadn’t seen either of them since that fateful day on the battlefield. She hadn’t even gone to the river in fear they might be there. She wasn’t sure how to face them. Would they hate her? Tobirama might. He’d even act on it, too.

Better to just avoid them all together, avoid seeing them, avoid thinking about them, avoid thinking about the battle and the blood and her uncles and—.

Absently, she ran a hand over the scroll in her hands. It was a family tree and finally answered one of her most burning questions. While she’d called all the children in the Clan her cousins, it was especially true of Madara and Izuna, for all they were six generations removed. She and Shuji were the only other branch of the Uchiha main family, with him and Tajima sharing a set of great-great-grandparents. The claim was tenuous, but Satan was the kind of man to cling to something like that. Add to that blood tie her own peculiarities and the grounds for a legitimate claim were laid.

She didn’t want to be heir, though.

Fuck, she’d run the Clan to the ground in a week if they put her in charge, out of spite if not pure incompetence.

Satan’s training from hell made more sense, now.

The archives were actually pretty cool. She’d never been one for research in her past life—one of the reasons she’d quit school—but learning about jutsus was fun. There were actually a bunch of really cool techniques stored away, forgotten by the Clan, that she looked forward to incorporating into her arsenal.

Most importantly, the fucking tablet was in the archives.

It looked like a particularly squat gravestone, with rows of writing she should have been able to read. Whenever she looked at it, it felt like something was keeping her brain from recognizing the kanji. Even with her sharingan active, she could only read bits and pieces about the Mangekyou and the Bijuu. Only one line stood out as perfectly legible.

The bullshit Zetsu had forged.

Honestly, the fact that she could read about the Ultimate Tsukiyomi without the Mangekyou made it super obvious that the line was somehow different from the others. Looking closely, she could tell that it was less weathered than the other lines, and there were a few differences in handwriting.

Zetsu…hadn’t tried very hard, had he?

Then again, given what she knew of the future, he didn’t have to, did he?

That one line caused all sorts of shit. Could she erase it? Change what it said? Zetsu had done it, but he was a parthenogenic child of Kaguya. It made sense that he’d be able to mess with something made by one of his siblings. She was an Uchiha, a direct descendent of Kaguya, but the distance between them was so vast, they may as well have been strangers. Odds were the stone would smite her out of existence before she even put a scratch on it.

Wasn’t Madara supposed to be the first Uchiha to awaken the Mangekyou? Why the heck did the Clan keep the creepy rock if no one could read it?

Hmph.

She leaned against it, blatantly disrespecting one of the Sage’s last mementos as she used it as a backrest. She pulled another scroll from the bottom of a pile, expecting to see either another history or an obscure jutsu. Instead, it was filled with signature after signature, the names written in a reddish brown substance.

Holy shit.

It was a summoning scroll!

She’d forgotten about summons, if she was honest. She’d been so focused on mastering her suiton and not dying that the idea of fantastical talking animals had completely slipped her mind.

Could she…sign it?

As soon as that thought entered her mind, she shook her head to dispel it. What was she thinking? She didn’t even know what animal this contract was for! She could have ended up with something lame, like slugs or toads!

A plan bloomed in her mind and she scrambled to her feet, taking the scroll with her as she left the archives. She rushed through the halls, stopping to knock on a doorframe.

“Juunsuke-jii-sama, it’s Kyou. Can I come in?”

The low murmurs of a conversation came to a halt, and she resigned herself to being dismissed.

“Ah, yes, Kyou-kun. Come in.”

Oh?

She pushed the door to the side, revealing the old man sitting across from Tajima, a go board set up between them.

Fuck.

She bowed to them both. “I’m sorry for interrupting your conversation, Tajima-sama, Junsuke-jii-sama.”

The head of her Clan waved aside her apology, not even looking at her as he moved a stone on the board. “Never mind that, Kyou. Don’t let me get in the way of your studies.”

He’d been treating her better, lately. Likely because she was holed up in the archives instead of making a name for herself where everyone could see.

He was just like Satan, in some ways.

She thanked him and closed the door behind her before kneeling beside the elder in charge of her education.

“Jii-sama,” she began, presenting the scroll with two hands. “I found this in the archives. I thought you might know what animal it’s for.”

He took the scroll and unfurled it, bushy grey eyebrows rising as he took in the contents.

“Well, I’ll be. I had no idea there was a summoning contract in there.” He pointed to the last signature. “That’s Tetsuya-sama’s name—your grandfather, Tajima-kun. I imagine this scroll is for the falcons, then.”

Tajima held out a hand for the scroll and Junsuke handed it over. Tajima smiled over at Kyou.

“Good job finding this, Kyou. We weren’t sure what the old man did with it after his death.”

She fidgeted under his praise, carefully avoiding her uncle’s gaze.

He stood. “Thank you for your time, Junsuke-jii-san. I think I will show this to Madara and incorporate it into his training. It will be good to reestablish ties with the falcons.”

Kyou and Junsuke watched him leave, heaving twin sighs of relief when the door closed.

“Well, that was unfortunate,” the old man griped. “That scroll would have given you quite the advantage.”

Blegh.

She smiled up at him. “It’s ok, jii-sama. I don’t want the falcons, anyway.” She turned up the cuteness dial, making her eyes wide and guileless. “I was wondering if I could get my own summons, just for me.”

Junsuke looked surprised at the suggestion. “Well, I don’t know, Kyou-kun. Historically, our clan has only really used the falcons. They’ve become a symbol of the head family.”

Good thing she wanted nothing to do with that, huh?

She twiddled her thumbs in her lap, putting on an act of resignation. “I suppose you’re right. Sorry for losing the scroll, jii-sama.” She stood, slowly approaching the door.

“Wait.”

Bingo.

“Yes, jii-sama?”

He sighed, shoulders sagging. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to make your own contract.”

Oh, man, this was going to be fucking sweet!

* * *

It was not fucking sweet.

While she knew theoretically that a summoning jutsu performed without a contract would result in a reverse summoning, she was not prepared for the reality of it.

Junsuke had insisted she do it with his supervision and they set up in the archives where no one would bother intruding. He showed her the hand signs—Boar Dog Bird Monkey Ram—and insisted she meditate and gather chakra before using them.

In hindsight, he was probably right to do all those things, but at the time she was too caught up in her excitement to appreciate it.

Being reverse summoned was a horrible feeling. How did Harry Potter describe portkeys? Like a hook behind the navel? It felt like that, only the hook was barbed and laced in acid. She was too busy vomiting to notice where she was at first, but it was immediately obvious she wasn’t in the Land of Fire anymore.

The ground beneath her was hard and gritty with golden sand that stuck to her skin. She was underneath a scary outcropping of yellow stone, in a semi enclosed cavelike space with patches of greenery clinging to the walls along the ground. She quickly removed herself from the precarious overhang, feeling much safer out in what looked like a rocky canyon. A bright sun beat down on her, the heat a starling contrast to the early spring chill she’d left behind.

It was…nostalgic.

Memories of a childhood spent in sandy deserts and hiking canyon trails rose unbidden in her mind, bringing tears with them. When was the last time she thought about that life? About her actual father and his actual parenting skills?

Fuck.

She wiped at her eyes furiously, shoving those memories back into the box they’d crawled out of. No. She did not have time to worry about those things.

Kyou looked around for any signs of life, but found none. An errant wind stirred the sand, long tufts of grass casting shadows as they swayed. Her skin already felt burnt, and she knew from experience that she’d need water if she was going to be in this weird desert place for too long.

Luckily, she had her own supply of the stuff.

Was drinking water she vomited into existence weird?

Moving on.

She made her way through the canyon, sticking to the shadowed edge and keeping an eye on her surroundings. She was supposed to find the animals she most resembled or something, right? It made sense that it would be a desert creature, then, since it was technically her native habitat, too. Thing was, a fuck ton of animals lived in the desert.

It could be lizards! Some of her fondest memories involved lizards, like the lizard carpet at the airport and finding lizards in places lizards should not be! A trademark desert experience.

Or mice! Scorpion killer mice howled like wolves, only tiny and cute! That would be fun.

Ooh, scorpions! Fuck yeah! Classic desert beasty.

Something moved and she froze, hackles raising as her sharingan activated instinctively. She turned her head slowly, trying to catch sight of whatever it was, only find herself completely alone. Was she being paranoid? Surely her sharingan would be able to pick out camouflage, right?

Right?

Laughter cut through the tense atmosphere, echoing off the walls of the canyon shrill and sinister. She suddenly felt every one of her three and halfish feet, so small and little. This was a stupid idea. Once again, she’d rushed into something she wasn’t ready for. She’d only just begun acting like her old self again, how long would she be out of commission this time?

Another laugh answered the first, with more and more voices joining the spooky chorus.

 _Fuck_.

She stood perfectly still, back against the wall of the canyon and burning eyes searching for the source of the voices.

“Well, this is unexpected.” The voice sounded female, but it was husky and deep, like a geriatric chain smoker. “It’s been a long time since we had any visitors.”

Another round of laughter rose in response, and Kyou looked up. Something—a whole bunch of somethings—looked back, shadowy silhouettes outlined by the sun. She caught a squinty eyes glimpse of big, round ears, but everything else was lost to the play of light and shadow.

“H-hello?” She called up to them. “Um, I like your canyon.”

More laughter.

“Oh, a cub with manners. How rare.” The group tittered as their leader spoke. “What brings you to us, cub?”

She swallowed thickly. Fuck, what did she say?

“Um, I wanted to form a summoning contract,” she started honestly. “But, I’m not sure if I want to anymore.”

They laughed at her expense. “Really? Have we scared you, cub?”

Kyou smiled tremulously. “A little,” she admitted. “But being summoned feels really gross. I can’t imagine anyone signing up to do it on the regular, let alone forcing you to do it. I don’t think I could, to be honest.”

It was true. Having been summoned, herself, the idea of forcing anyone to go through that horrid, literally gut wrenching experience over and over again at someone else’s convenience was an evil concept.

“Oh? How _kind_ of you.” She did not like that emphasis. Nuh uh. “Tell me, cub, would you really go home without signing a contract?”

She squinted up at the speaker and their posse. “It’s not like that was my decision to make in the first place, right? Can’t you just spit me out if you don’t like me?” That was the assumption she was going off of, anyway. “I mean, sure, it’ll be disappointing and I’ll probably get in trouble, but this is your place, right? It’s your decision.”

She’d get in so much trouble if she went back empty handed, but the more she thought about it the more the whole summoning system felt like slavery and _fuck_ but she hadn’t thought this through.

“Hmm, it _is_ my decision, isn’t it?” A shadow leapt down from the lip of the canyon and Kyou covered her head reflexively. “None of that! Show me your face, cub.”

She lowered her arms slowly, cautiously revealing herself to what she knew was likely a large predator from the size of the shadow being cast over her. She was right.

A hyena stood in front of her—explained the ‘laughter’; honestly, she felt kind of dumb for not realizing it sooner—many times larger than the kind from her old world. Kyou only came up to its knee and it looked down at her from atop an uncannily long neck. Its fur was the same gold as the stone around them and covered in black spots. Its ears were large and very round and focused on her, black muzzle wrinkling as it scented the air.

It lowered its massive head, blowing hot air into Kyou’s face.

“What’s your name, cub?”

“Kyou,” she answered without hesitation. “Uchiha Kyou.”

The hyena cocked its head. “That’s not your only name, is it cub?”

Oh. _Oh._ Oh no.

She cleared her throat. “Ah, um, my n-name used to be…Julia Rodriguez.”

Ah, fuck.

The hyena sniffed her again, coming uncomfortably close. “Well, then, Uchiha Kyou, once Yuria Rodurigesu, what can you offer my Clan?”

Kyou pressed her weight into the canyon wall behind her. “U-um, well, I’m not sure. What do you want?”

The massive predator huffed in her face. “What can you give?”

Kyou bit her lip to keep herself from mouthing off. Sweat dripped down her forehead as she considered her answer. “I don’t know. I’m still a cub, so I can’t really give you anything. Maybe a meal, if you eat me—!” She pressed her hands over her mouth, cursing her stupid mouth for getting ahead of her brain.

The hyena laughed, its teeth gleaming in the bright desert sun. “Indeed, you are still a cub. Tell me this, then, what do you want from us?”

 _That_ Kyou could answer. “Well, I want to learn. I’m the only one in my Clan with suiton chakra, so I have to figure everything out, myself. I was hoping a summon might be willing to teach me, or something.”

The hyena lay down on its haunches and Kyou watched as the others came down into the canyon, arranging themselves behind their leader. “Your mother cannot teach you?”

Kyou cocked her head, confused. “My mother is sick. She can’t do anything. Even if she wasn’t, my Clan doesn’t teach its women.”

The entire group, some thirty or forty strong, gasped. The canyon was suddenly filled with scandalized chatter. The leader barked at them and they lowered their voices, whispering angrily among themselves.

“If that is so,” the big one drawled. “Then how are you here?”

Oh, sweet! They knew she was a girl! _~~Obviously, Kyou, they have noses. Why are you so stupid?~~_

She shrugged. “My father told everyone I was a boy and made sure I learned. He’s only doing it so I can take over the Clan for him, though.”

“You are a Princess?”

Kyou smiled wryly. “I guess you could call me that. I’m a member of the main family, in any case. Only men can inherit, so a man I must be.”

The leader scoffed, stirring up dust with the force of its breath. “Human folly at its finest.”

Kyou nodded in agreement. Her mind dredged up a memory of an Animal Planet marathon and she remembered that some hyenas were matriarchal. The big one must be female, then. No wonder they were all so insulted by the patriarchy. _~~Thank **God** they were insulted by the patriarchy.~~_

“I want,” she ventured, somewhat nervous to be speaking out of turn. “To be strong enough to survive as a woman in a patriarchal world. I want to be strong enough to live however I want, to do the things I want to do, without having to worry that a man will take that choice away from me. I want to dress like a woman, talk like a woman, walk through the woods as a woman without having to fear a man will take anything I don’t want to give.”

The hyena Matriarch smiled, the expression weird and scary on her soot black face. “We can do that. Can’t we?”

The Clan behind her all voiced their raucous agreement and Kyou felt a little warm and fuzzy, the high of speaking her mind putting a wide smile on her face.

“Well, then, Uchiha Kyou,” the Matriarch said as she got to her—very large—feet. “Follow me.”

The long legged hyena slowed her gait considerably so Kyou could keep up with her, some of her smaller Clanmates following in their wake.

“My name is Emi,” she said as she led the way through the canyon. “I am the leader of this Clan and all humans who wish to sign our contract must go through me. I am not the final gauntlet, though.”

Kyou nodded, thinking back to her memories of the toads. “That makes sense. Do you have elders? My Clan does.”

Emi chuckled, the sound an odd mix of grating rocks and dog barking. “Yes, we do. The Grandmothers are the final authority when it comes to summoning. Though my word carries weight, they are the ones who will or will not allow you to sign.”

Kyou hummed in understanding, wiping at the sweat on her forehead before it could drip into her eyes. She had not missed the desert heat, that was for sure.

The canyon opened up into a wide basin, a large pool of water taking up most of the space, the cloudless sky reflected on its surface. Emi lead the way around the edge of the mirroresque pool, each hyena taking special care no to disturb the water. On the other side of the basin, three massive hyenas—even larger than Emi—lounged on a raised stone shaded by a lone acacia tree. As one, they raised their heads to watch Kyou’s entourage approach.

They were all old in an obvious way, their muzzles fully grey and their coats shaggy and scarred. The biggest one looked right at Kyou with eyes as reflective as the watering hole, gaze unseeing yet somehow piercing.

“Ah, Emi,” she said, her voice even more grating than the younger Matriarch. “You’ve grown soft.”

The other two elders tittered and Emi sat beside Kyou with a humph.

“This is Uchiha Kyou, Princess of the Uchiha Clan. She wishes to sign the contract.”

The big one hummed, a terrible, hair raising sound. “Is that so? Step forward, cub. Let us see our would be summoner.”

Kyou hesitated before obeying, stiffening as all three hyenas reached over to sniff her. The blind one took in a long breath before sneezing—all over Kyou.

“Ah,” she complained. “You’re a strange one.”

“Hmm, yes, strange.”

“Very odd.”

Kyou scrunched her brows as she looked up at the old animals. “But not bad?”

They laughed, the eerily human sounds in perfect sync.

“No,” one of the smaller ones said. “Not bad.”

“Not bad at all,” the other affirmed.

“Just strange,” the blind one finished with a huff. “You may sign.”

What. That was it?

Kyou managed to stop herself before she said that out loud. She really shouldn’t be complaining.

The two smaller elders stood, moving to lay behind their larger counterpart. She, in turn, gestured with her giant head for Kyou to approach. The human girl climbed onto the rock with little trouble, using her chakra to scale it, and shrank beneath the hyena’s blind scrutiny. She moved a foreleg, revealing a list of names written onto the stone itself.

“We are a selective Clan,” she said, likely sensing Kyou’s confusion. “We do not leave things to chance.”

Kyou could appreciate that. She knelt beside the blind elder, raising her thumb to her mouth and—after a moment’s fumbling—biting through it. Quickly, she wrote out her name, her blood immediately fading to match the other names on the stone as she made the final stroke. She placed her dusty thumb into her mouth, looking up to meet the Grandmother’s gaze. It was hard to tell from so close up, but she thought she might be smiling.

“Who will go with the cub?” Emi’s voice broke the silence, and Kyou looked out at the gathered group of hyenas. They chattered among themselves, not all of them using human words. Finally, one stepped forward.

“I will, Matriarch.” This hyena was among the smallest that Kyou could see, and its voice was softer than either Emi’s or the blind elder’s.

Emi’s lip curled. “What do you have to offer the cub, Warai? What can a Princess learn from a young male?”

Oh fuck. Was that misandry? Were these hyenas reverse chauvinist?

The male, Warai, wilted under his Matriarch’s glare. “I am small, so the human Clan will not fear me. I am male, so they will value me, and thus the Princess. I have suiton, so the Princess may learn from me.”

The other hyenas all nodded along with his reasons and Emi barked her approval. “Good! Warai will accompany the cub to the human realm.”

Kyou slowly made her way over to the edge of the raised stone dais, fully expecting to be scolded for moving without permission. When no one spoke out against her, she slid down onto the ground and bowed to Warai. He really was small—at least, compared to Emi—with his ears standing level with Kyou’s eyes. He was probably around average size for actual hyenas.

“Thank you for volunteering, Warai-san. I will do my best to be a good student.”

It was hard to tell, but she got the feeling he was uncomfortable. “Y-yes, Princess.”

She winced. “You probably shouldn’t call me that. No one is supposed to know.”

He nodded. “C-cub, then.”

Kyou smiled at him, glad to know she wasn’t the only one with nerves. “Yeah, cub works.”

Junsuke’s expression when she reappeared in the archives with a whole ass hyena was priceless. Kyou half suspected he’d had a heart attack from the shock, but the smile that broke out on his face burst that bubble.

“Ah, Kyou-kun! You were successful, I see. Er…who is your companion?”

Kyou looked to Warai only to find him looking to her. “Ah! This is Warai-san. He is a hyena and will be teaching me suiton.”

Warai bowed his head to the human elder who looked positively ecstatic. “Oh, will he? Wonderful, just wonderful, Kyou-kun! I will admit, I was getting a bit worried. You were gone for quite some time.”

Was she? It hadn’t felt like that long.

“Um, jii-sama,” she began hesitantly. “Will I get in trouble for this?”

Junsuke’s exuberance faded. “Ah, it’s not likely. Falcons are the symbol of the head family, so this… _hyena_ …shouldn’t pose a problem. If anything, I’ll have to fend off other boys looking to gain their own summons. Not everyone can stand level with you and Madara, I’m afraid.”

She nodded, glad to have that base covered. “Thank you, jii-sama. Is there anything else you need me for, today, or may I go tell my father the good news?”

The old man smiled at her. “Go ahead, Kyou-kun. I’m sure he will be proud.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emi’s name (笑) is the first kanji in laughter. Google translates it as ‘lol’. Lol.  
> Warai's (笑い) is laughter.
> 
> [This image](https://assets.nrdc.org/sites/default/files/styles/full_content--retina/public/media-uploads/specieswatch_stripedhyena_rm_f1y0w0_ds_2400.jpg?itok=2yKfHPUl) immediately made me think of [this image](https://s18798.pcdn.co/shanghai-ima-documentation/wp-content/uploads/sites/13761/2019/03/king-of-the-forest-300x224.png). Tell me you see it.


	8. Ohana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey. been a while. i changed my mind about something really central to the plot, then had to scramble to make the things I'd already written still work without it then figured out a way to keep my initial plan and still include the changes I wanted to make and basically ran around like a headless chicken for no reason, lol. 
> 
> in other news, I have decided to participate in NaNoWriMo this year. _Shinobi Isekai!: Round Three _will come to AO3 in November!__

Izuna had a problem.

It wasn’t _his_ problem, necessarily, and it was so easily ignored in favor of much happier things, like the new tanto his father gave him and Madara’s new summoning contract, but every time something invariably reminded him of it the stone in the pit of his stomach grew ten pounds heavier.

The signs were obvious, now that he knew what he was looking for. He couldn’t ignore them no matter how hard he tried. The dark circles under his cousin’s wary eyes, the barely perceptible flinches in the face of raised voices, the way he immediately raised his arms to protect his head.

It all painted a horrible picture he wished he could unsee. Then, it would be easier to ignore the way his cousin regarded _him_ with extra caution, the way he tried to avoid Izuna’s gaze and scowled when he couldn’t. That wasn’t the way cousins were supposed to look at each other, wasn’t the way Izuna’s other cousins looked at him.

Before… _Before_ , he’d interpreted those glares as proof of the superior attitude his father always claimed _that family_ had, as proof that the Clan genius had let his reputation go to his head. Now…

Now, after following his littlest cousin around like an enemy nin, seeing the way he smiled at his grandmother and the elders and his _mother_ , Izuna had no choice but to acknowledge a horrible, soul wrenching truth.

Kyou _hated_ him.

It wasn’t like he didn’t have a reason to. Looking back, Izuna could recognize the bully he’d become—and all the other bullies he’d encouraged by association.

At first, he’d been indignant. If Kyou hadn’t been so weird, he would have never bothered with him in the first place! Of course, that idea quickly proved hollow, since he knew Kyou had been born _like that_ and there wasn’t anything he could really do about it. Still, he didn’t have to be such a jerk about it, going out of his way to upstage Izuna and Madara every chance he got!

Ah, but that was…probably not true, either. If what he’d seen last winter was a regular thing, then he probably had no choice…

When he’d brought up what he’d seen to his father, Tajima had simply pat his head and told him not to concern himself with _that family_ ’s business. But…

Wasn’t Kyou’s family _Izuna_ ’s family?

They were both Uchihas, weren’t they? Sure, Kyou looked different from everyone else, but his mother was a civilian his father had brought into the Clan, so that made sense. He had a sharingan—as much as it hurt Izuna to admit it—and he fought aside the Clan—once, he’d been holed up in the archives ever since—so, why was Kyou’s family _that family_?

Izuna looked down at his cousin from his perch in the tree, watching as he left the confines of the village in the company of the strange dog/bear/thing he’d formed a contract with. Izuna’s father had been pleased with that development, as it meant Kyou could never sign the falcon scroll, reserving that honor for Madara.

Izuna would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of his brother and cousin for their newfound animal companions, but he knew better than to get involved in Clan politics. Madara had a contract because he was father’s son. Kyou had one because he was…Madara’s rival?

Izuna wasn’t too clear on that, to be honest, but he knew his parents hated it when Kyou did anything praiseworthy, always going off about how hard it was making Madara’s life.

Izuna followed Kyou and his…companion silently, keeping to the trees as the duo headed to a shallow pond—in the summer heat, deep puddle was probably a better description. They settled on the bank, Kyou falling back to lay spread eagle on the grass while the large mammal beside him sat inelegantly, short back legs almost comical in their disproportion.

He knew the strange animal was supposed to be teaching Kyou how to use his suiton— _another_ oddity—but they looked more likely to take a nap than train. Was it just an excuse to get away from the village? Izuna knew Madara had been sneaking away a lot since the start of summer, coming home looking much happier than when he’d left. Was Kyou doing the same thing?

“What are you doing?”

Izuna flailed his arms, desperately channeling chakra to his feet to keep from falling to the ground. He set incredulous eyes on his cousin, the smaller child’s deadpan expression just as unsettling as ever. A quick glance down to the pond told him his cousin had likely used kawarimi, a small stick sitting in the Kyou shaped depression in the grass.

“Watch it,” Izuna snapped. “I almost fell.”

One dark brow rose in response and it was all Izuna could do not to rise to the bait—if Kyou was baiting him at all. He took a deep, steadying breath, struggling to keep his temper in check.

“You’ve been following me for a while,” Kyou said, voice low and measured, like Izuna’s mother’s when she was getting ready to scold him. “So? What is it this time? Are you going to steal my kimono when I get in the water? Put pins in the seams? Run it through the tannery’s urine supply? I don’t wear sandals, so you can’t do anything to those. Are you going to disrupt my training? Steal one of Warai-san’s jutsu’s with your sharinga—oh, wait, you don’t have one.”

Izuna’s hackles rose of their own accord. That! That sharp tongue was why nobody liked him!

Or, he realized with a bodily deflation, his tongue was sharp because nobody liked him.

He might have actually done some of those things, now that he thought about it. If not him, others definitely had. Kyou, Izuna knew, had every reason to suspect the worst.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a frown. It quickly turned into a scowl as Kyou’s face contorted with wild disbelief. “I am! I mean it!”

Kyou scrunched his nose at him. “For what? Not having a sharingan? That’s not exactly—.”

“Not for that!” Again, Izuna could feel his anger taking over and this time he didn’t feel like stopping it. “Why are you so mean?”

Kyou stared at him, open mouthed. Then, he laughed.

Izuna had heard his cousin laugh before, a low, dark chuckle at someone else’s expense. This was nothing like that. High pitched and almost manic, it made Izuna uncomfortable in ways he couldn’t explain. The look in Kyou’s eyes was as wild as his laughter, and Izuna was suddenly, unwaveringly sure he’d made a mistake.

“Mean? Mean. Me, I’m mean. Ok, sure. Let’s go with that.” The smile on Kyou’s face looked exactly like the one on Shuji’s, no less scary for the lack of a scar. “I’m mean because I…what? Teased you about your sharingan? Oh, wow, so terrible. Truly, I’m a terror to behold. If that makes me mean, Zuzu-chan,” he leaned in, looking up at Izuna while also seeming so much larger, somehow. “Then what would you call someone who sets babies on fire? Who uses excessive force against someone half his size in training? Who uses his position as Tajima’s little boy to get away clean while his lackeys take the fall for his bullshit? Who—?”

“What are you talking about?” Izuna cut in with a snarl. “I never did any of that?”

The light in Kyou’s eyes was unkind, the sneer twisting his face a perfect replica of the one Shuji always wore. “Oh, really?” He pulled his left arm out of his sleeve, revealing a pale burn scar on his clavicle. “Then what’s this? And this,” he twisted his bare arm, showing Izuna another scar, this one from a blade of some sort. “Are you saying I did this to myself?”

There was a pit opening in Izuna’s gut, but his mouth moved before his mind could stop it. “I don’t remember doing anything that could cause that!”

Kyou snorted, his eyes glowing red as he glared at Izuna. “Of course, you don’t! No one ever does! I’m the only one who—.” Suddenly, Kyou’s anger was gone, the suffocating weight of it no longer filling Izuna’s lungs. “The only one.” He said, sharingan eyes unfocused as he stared at something both between them and far away. “I’m the only one who remembers. The only one.”

“Kyou?” Izuna had seen that look on his father before, and mother always said not to bother him. ‘Sharingan memories’, she called them. Their dojutsu recorded memories in such perfect clarity, sometimes older shinobi got caught in them, reliving the events in a loop until they escaped the confines of their own mind. Kyou was even younger than him! But…he’d had a sharingan his whole life. What…what was he remembering?

“Kyou?” He reached out and put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder, only to find himself struggling for air, his back against the grassy forest floor and Kyou’s little hands around his neck. Thumbs pressed into the hollow of his throat and he grabbed hold of slender wrists, pulling at them desperately. Kyou’s eyes were still red and unfocused, face twisted with rage. How was he so strong?

Suddenly, just as darkness began creeping into the edges of Izuna’s vision, both of them were doused in water.

“That’s enough, cub,” Kyou’s summons said sharply. “His death isn’t worth the fallout.”

Just like that, Izuna could breathe. He took a few, halting breaths before turning on his cousin. The yell he’d prepared died in his throat as he took in Kyou’s face.

Drawn. Pale beneath the tan. Red eyes staring at trembling hands, horror filling the empty space left by his rage.

“What the fuck,” he was saying, voice little more than a whisper. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Izuna swallowed painfully, rubbing at his throat in an attempt to soothe it. He’d…he’d really almost died, hadn’t he? And it wasn’t at the hands of the Senju or some other shinobi Clan. It wasn’t in battle, where his death would bring honor to the Uchiha.

No. It was within his own Clan’s territory, not even ten minutes from the village, at the hands of a kid three years younger than him.

“Nothing is wrong with you,” the summons was saying, tone almost indulgent. “This whelp deserves it, if what I heard is true.”

Izuna took a step back and the large carnivore laughed, the sound eerily similar to Kyou’s manic giggles.

He was tempted to defend himself, to assure the big animal that he really hadn’t done any of the things Kyou had accused him of, but…what if he had? Kyou had a sharingan, so it made sense that he would remember things no one else did.

And apparently one of those things was bad enough to send him into an ‘episode’, as his mother called them.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead, clenching his fist as Kyou set sharp red eyes on him. “That’s what I came to say, and I meant it. I-I don’t remember hurting you like that, but I promise I won’t ever do anything like that again. I don’t—,” he cut himself off, biting at his lip before continuing. “I don’t want to hurt my family anymore.”

The look in Kyou’s eyes sharpened and his animal let out another creepy laugh. “Family?”

“Yeah,” Izuna’s voice was raspy as he raised it. “What…what does family mean to you, Kyou?”

For some reason, that made him smile. “Family means…no one gets left behind…or forgotten.”

That…was a weird answer. “Do you think…we could be family, Kyou? For real?”

His little cousin looked up at him with dark eyes, the sun hitting them at just the right angle and revealing a hidden rainbow of browns. “Satan won’t be happy about that. He doesn’t like you or Mada-nii. He says you’re a threat to my position.”

Oh. So, seiten was Shuji? Izuna rubbed at the back of his neck. “My father says the same thing about you.”

Kyou snorted. “Those two are so alike, you’d think they’d get along better.”

Izuna resisted the urge to deny that statement, resigning himself to unintelligible grumbles. His cousin sighed, pulling the sleeve of his yukata—which was once Izuna’s, he recognized the stain on the hem—back over his arm.

“Shuji-san,” he swallowed thickly. “He’s not very nice, is he?”

Kyou snorted again, harder this time, dark eyes bulging with the force of it. “Ha! No, he’s not. No one in this Clan is.”

“Anija is nice!” Madara was the best brother Izuna could ask for.

Kyou’s smile was a little less bitter, reaching his eyes like a true smile should. “Yeah, but he’s the only one. Who knows when this hellscape of a world will ruin that? God knows it ruined me.”

Izuna…wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but Kyou got to his feet before he could try, brushing mud off his clothing with a sniff.

“Apology accepted,” he said haughtily, tilting his head so it looked like he was looking down at Izuna despite being a full head shorter. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m supposed to be training.”

Warmth filled Izuna’s chest, the horrid knot of guilt in his stomach loosening. “C-can I come?”

His cousin exchanged a glance with his summons before shrugging and walking out onto the surface of the pond. “Whatever. If Tajima disowns you, it’s your own fault.”

Something told him that was as close as Kyou would ever come to welcoming him.

* * *

“—The circulation of your chakra mimics the natural movements of running water, and by encouraging that movement you—.”

Blah. BLAH. _BLAH!_

Kyou had never been so bored. She hated the lecture model the first time around and sucked even more now. Warai, bless his timid heart, was doing his best, showing her examples for her to copy with her sharingan while he explained. With a tired sigh, she ran her chakra through the water, agitating it until it began to flow in a hollow sphere.

Water Prison Jutsu!

Only, you know, small. Occupying only one palm, it was hardly the kind of thing that would bring down Kakashi, one day, a hundred years from now.

Yikes.

Quickly burying that thought, Kyou concentrated on keeping her chakra moving, like Warai told her to.

“You should try to do this as often as you can,” he was saying, gravelly voice at odds with his gentle tone. “You want to get to a state where you can do it subconsciously. Like muscle memory, but with chakra.”

Kyou nodded, cupping her other hand over the little ball of water. “I get it, but,” how to say it without hurting his feelings? “Will I always need to be near a body of water? That might get…inconvenient.”

He laughed, the sound small and quiet compared to Emi’s. “Of course, not, cub. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but there is water everywhere. You need to train your chakra before you call on it, though.”

Right. Ok. That made sense.

“How long do you think it will take?”

Warai cocked his head. “Well, it took me the better part of a year before I could even consider pulling water from the air, as I suspect you’re hinting at, but your sharingan might cut that down for you.”

Ugh~!

Kyou let her bubble pop, flopping back to lay spread eagled on the grass. “That’s so long!”

The hyena laughed at her expense and she rolled over with a huff. Two sandaled feet stood in her field of vision and a scowl automatically formed on her face.

“What do you want, Zuzu-chan?”

Izuna didn’t look all too put off by the nickname, but he was wearing armor and that was never a good sign. His face was set in a grimace, black eyes serious as he looked down at her.

“Kyou,” he said lowly, looking a bit green around the gills. “I need help.”

What.

She sat up, eyes impossibly wide as she looked up at her not-so-least favorite cousin. That was Tarou, now. Izuna had put in effort to better his standing in Kyou’s eyes, which was more than anyone had ever done for her and automatically placed him above literally everyone else. Sure, he was a little shit, but so was she. It was apparently genetic. There were still lines he didn’t cross, however, and asking _her_ for help was one of them.

“What happened?”

He squat down with an explosive sigh, pressing his hands to his face in obvious distress.

“Anija,” he said after a tense moment. “Anija is training with a _Senju_.”

Oh. _Oh._ Oh no.

Was it that time already? She knew it was coming up, but so soon? The summer wasn’t even close to over. How long had Madara spent with Hashirama at this point? A month? Two? Was that long enough to form life changing friendships?

It was long enough for her to get on friendly terms with Izuna.

Hrm.

“So?” She shrugged heavily. “I was, too, last summer.”

God, it was only last summer. Barely a year since she made her first friends, almost a year since the battle and the blood and her uncles—.

“What? Kyou, that’s dangerous! Why didn’t you say anything?”

She shot a glare at her flabbergasted cousin. “Who would I tell? Besides, it’s not like we talked about our Clans or anything. I’ll bet Mada-nii’s the same way.”

Izuna didn’t look particularly mollified. “Kyou, they’re the enemy! They could have hurt you!”

She scoffed. “The first time I met Itama, he was crying because his brother died.”

That set him off kilter, and she plowed ahead, tone bitter as it was soft. “He was hiding, because apparently emotions aren’t manly, or whatever. He didn’t want anyone to see him crying. His big brother found us, later, and he even helped me figure out the Iceball jutsu, you know. They’re not all bad.”

Izuna’s armor creaked as he shifted his weight. “Why don’t you play with them anymore?”

Her breath hitched and for a moment all she could see was the cold red of Tobirama’s eyes as he pressed a blade to her throat.

“Like you said,” the words felt like they were strangling her and probably sounded like it, too. “We’re enemies.”

A hand pressed onto her shoulder, jolting her back to the pond, with Izuna and Warai and green grass and no blood, no dead uncles only living cousins.

“Kyou, I—,” he cut himself off, looking uncertain. “Anija looked—he was _happy_ , Kyou. He’s _been_ happy. I…didn’t realize he wasn’t, before…”

Yeah, she’d been happy, too.

“It’s…it was nice, to be able to exist without anyone expecting things from me, you know? Mada-nii’s under as much pressure as I am, so,” she shrugged, trying not to wallow.

“Yeah,” Izuna, it seemed, was not trying. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

Warai chose that moment to sneeze, shattering their shared melancholy. Izuna’s entire expression hardened, looking every inch the child soldier.

“I need to report to father.”

No!

She reached out and grabbed ahold of his gauntleted wrist. “Wait!”

He totally could have brushed her off, but he stopped.

“What are you gonna tell him?”

Izuna met her gaze head on. “The truth, of course, what else?”

“And what will he do when you tell him? What will happen to Mada-nii?”

Her cousin paled, his mask crumbling as he scrambled to reply. “No! Don’t worry, Kyou, he’s not—he won’t—he isn’t like Shuji-san!”

Ah. That wasn’t what she was going for, but hey, it worked.

Why was she trying to interfere, again? What had Madara ever done for her?

Apparently, not being a dick was a fucking accomplishment.

Fuck.

Already committed, she sighed. “Nobody’s like Satan. Look, if you tell Tajima, he’ll use it as an opportunity to hurt the Senju—it’s what I would do, in his place. What will Mada-nii think?”

Izuna’s face twisted as he followed the path she laid for him. Yes, exactly. Use that brain, for once, think of the consequences.

“What do I do, then?” His voice was soft and Kyou was hit over the head with the realization that this was a kid. A _child_. That she was manipulating.

 _Fuck_.

“Tell him he’s training,” she suggested with a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “That he wants it to be a surprise. It works on Satan. Then,” she added, before he could protest. “We’ll go and see Mada-nii tomorrow, to make sure he’s safe. How does that sound?”

Izuna nodded, face pale with worry. “Right. That…that might work.”

It had fucking better. She had no interest in being Clan heir, and if Madara died…

Actually, that would solve a lot of problems, wouldn’t it?

Or would it make more?

Hrm.

Whatever. Better the devil you know, right?

That was the mantra she repeated to herself as she followed Izuna through the trees the next day, Warai on the forest floor, below them. The summons had insisted on accompanying them, providing ‘adult supervision’ or whatever. It suited her fine, since that meant they’d have help thwarting what she suspected would be the life altering ambush she vaguely remembered.

She really ought to write some of her memories down. The sharingan hadn’t been a thing Before, so her memories of the Plot and stuff were fading, replaced by the permanently clear ones she’d made since being isekaid.

It wasn’t even Truck-kun that did it. Ah, well, Motorcycle-chan was just as good.

She said nothing as she came to a stop beside Izuna, her cousin staring intently down at the river where, lo and behold, Madara stood on one bank and a taller boy with a _bowl cut_ stood on the other. Somewhere behind him, his father and siblings were likely lying in wait.

Shit. Tobirama was a sensor, right? Fuck.

She tamped down on her chakra—suppression was a skill Satan had insisted she master during her time in the archives, and for once she’d offered no resistance. Activating her sharingan, she scanned the treeline behind the boy who could only be Hashirama. One large chakra signature stood out to her and she reached out to tug on Izuna’s sleeve.

“There’s someone else there,” she whispered. The words were barely audible, even to her, but Izuna stiffened in response.

Maybe she should have let him tell Tajima. What were a couple of kids and a hyena supposed to do against the head of the Senju Clan? She had the only sharingan and she was the littlest!

Not good, not good, not good—

Madara and Hashirama skipped stones across the river to each other and Kyou’s heart went out to the boys. Innocence was a precious thing, especially so in a world filled with constant warfare and subterfuge. Kyou was doomed from the start and Izuna was like most of their cousins in that he did as he was told with little qualm. Madara, somehow, had managed to stay happy and optimistic despite being born into a Clan known for its depressive tendencies at a time of intense strife. This thing, today, would be the beginning of the end for him, and it hurt Kyou to know it.

The big chakra signature moved and she reacted. Madara shouted in surprise as she landed on his back, pushing him face first into the river as something passed over their heads. He sputtered underneath her, striving to keep his face above water.

"Anija!" Izuna came to stand on the water beside them, sword raised as he eyed Senju Butsuma, the adult sneering down at the three Uchiha children, his own offspring gathering on the opposite bank, trapping them on the river. Izuna was the only one of them in armor since Kyou couldn't take hers without raising suspicion. She did have a few senbon hidden in the hem of her kimono, but she wasn't sure they'd be very useful against Tobirama, let alone his _dad_.

"How fortuitous," Butsuma drawled, twirling the blade in his wrist like he hadn't just tried to decapitate Madara with it. "All of Tajima's children in one place."

Kyou stayed sitting in the water as Madara leapt to his feet, standing on the river's surface with his back to Izuna's, each brother facing a different riverbank. The look of hurt and betrayal on her cousin's face as he stared down his friend sent a pang of secondhand umbrage through her. He was good. One of the only good people she'd met since being reborn in this weird Naruto world. Sure, she knew this would happen, but she'd convinced herself that she didn't care, that it was his problem and had nothing to do with her. Now, though, looking at the bare heartbreak on his face, she knew she was a goner.

Fuck. Shit. Son of a bitch.

How the fuck was she supposed to ditch the Clan when she _cared?_

She carefully got to her feet, keeping her gaze on Butsuma's feet. There was a chance, a slim one, that Itama and Tobirama hadn't told him about her sharingan—or that he hadn't recognized her as the one they _had_ told him about—and she wanted to preserve the element of surprise for as long as possible. She could all but feel the tomoe swirling in her eyes as she tried to formulate a plan. Butsuma was clearly the biggest threat, but Tobirama was a formidable opponent and Itama was as much a wildcard as she was when it came to the original Plot. Maybe she should have let Izuna tell Tajima, because if he had they'd have an actual human adult in their side instead of a hyena with low self esteem who hadn't even shown himself yet and—

"Kyou-kun? Is that you?"

Well, fuckity fuck fuck.

She decidedly did _not_ turn to look at Itama, but she could just picture the look of innocent confusion on his face. Keeping him and his brothers behind her was probably a bad idea, but she couldn't bear to look at him. Just hearing her name said in that plaintive tone was bringing back memories of blood and uncles and _he's so proud of you—_

Pain brought her back, the hilt of Izuna's sword leaving a stinging welt on the back of her head even as it loosened her ponytail and sent long black hair falling into her vision.

"Snap out if it," her cousin said harshly, his eyes trained on the only adult. "You can wallow later."

Rude. Valid, but rude.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing her attention back onto Butsuma just in time to see his chakra gathering.

"Izuna," she shouted, reaching out to pull him to one side by the sleeve. "Move!"

He rolled in tandem with her tugging and Madara dove in the opposite direction, both of them just narrowly avoiding Butsuma's chakra charged blade. The head of the Senju Clan came to stand between Kyou and her cousins, trapping her boys between him and his sons.

He turned to look at her, his dark eyes considering as he straightened to his full height.

"I see. A sharingan," shit. "Impressive, for a child your age. I can't imagine what Tajima is thinking, keeping you off the field."

 _Fuck_.

She swallowed thickly, letting herself look at Butsuma's face. He, experienced Uchiha slayer that he was, was looking at the top of her head, dark brows furrowed over deep set eyes. He might have been attractive, with his deep tan and angular jaw, if it wasn't for the cold anger in his eyes. Being the center of his attention sent chills down her spine and images of her impending death flashed before her eyes.

Wait.

That was Killing Intent, right? That's what did that, right? Izuna had taken to complaining about it the moment he figured she shouldn't be using it on him, anymore, and he always mentioned that.

Well, she could do that, too.

Thinking of this man and the ease with which he had tried to kill three children with three if his own _watching_ and how he'd likely encouraged such behavior from them and the rest of his Clan and the anguish on Madara's face when he used his son's pure friendship as a tool of war, it was easy to summon the anger necessary to hit him with the Killing Intent which gave her her name.

She watched with perverse satisfaction as his eyes widened, taken visibly aback by her use of a technique most adults never mastered. She looked at his eyes and he reflexively met her gaze, giving her the greatest gift an arch nemesis could give as he fell to the genjutsu Satan had made damned sure she could cast under any circumstances. She watched as his eyes bled sharingan red and his body ragdolled, collapsing beautifully into the river below him.

Holy shit.

"Holy shit," Izuna exhaled, clearly reading her mind. "Holy shit, Kyou!"

"What did you do?" 

Kyou made the mistake of looking at the speaker, meeting angry red eyes and suddenly she was sure there was a blade at her neck, dripping with the blood of kin she'd helped kill. She stepped back, burying her eyes in the heels if her palms, shaking her head angrily as if to dislodge the memories.

"Stay away from him!" Izuna's voice was close and she could feel his body heat as he stepped between her and Tobirama. There was a metallic clang and she just knew their fated rivalry had been kindled. "Stinking Senju! How dare you try to ambush Anija!"

"Shut up!" Tobirama actually sounded offended. "Like you weren't doing the same!"

"We weren't," Izuna was so smug, his voice _dripped_ with it. "We came to make sure Anija was safe with his Senju friend—which he clearly wasn't!"

A hand fell on Kyou's shoulder, grounding her as she struggled to stay in the present. 

"Kyou," Madara said softly. "Are you alright?"

No. No she wasn't alright. She hadn't been since the day she'd lived through being born, a second time!

She opened her eyes, turning her glare on the sky and whatever sadistic deity might be looking down at her. 

"I'm fine," she said woodenly. "Don't worry about it."

The sounds of combat were accompanied by splashing and grunts of exertion and she turned her head to see Hashirama pulling his father from the river. It was almost comical, since Hashirama had yet to grow into his six foot adult frame and his father dwarfed him by an incredible margin, but it was also scary, since he'd managed to pull him to shore all by himself. The future First Hokage looked at her, then, his dark eyes so reminiscent of his father's that she recoiled. He seemed saddened by that, drooping into an exaggerated slouch with a heavy pout on his face.

"Madara-kun, your baby brother doesn't like me!"

What.

She'd just put his father into a genjutsu after he tried to kill her and _that's_ what he was focusing on?

"Anija." Tobirama was by his side in a flash, leaving Izuna to fall over without an opponent to press his sword against. "These are Uchiha!"

No shit, Sherlock. Wasn't he supposed to be smart?

"Eh, really? Madara-kun, you're an Uchiha?"

And Hashirama was Naruto's previous incarnation. Right.

She once again averted her gaze, looking at Izuna as he came to stand by her, expression thunderous.

Weren't they all taking things a little too well? Her memories were fuzzy, sure, but she was fairly certain things were supposed to go way worse than they had.

Maybe, without the adults, the kids weren't as murderous?

If only.

"Anija, let's go home," Izuna was saying, glaring at the Senju boys with a fierceness he'd previously reserved for her. "Father doesn't know about this, so we should make sure he doesn't find out."

"You didn't tell father?"

Izuna fidgeted under his brother's astonishment. "Well, no. Kyou said he'd probably try to ambush your friend, so..."

And, just like that, she was the center of attention. Shit.

She ducked behind Izuna, playing up the whole "baby brother" thing Hashirama had so generously laid the groundwork for. She _really_ didn't want to stay there any longer than necessary and the manga hadn't had anywhere near as much talking. Were her memories even accurate enough to warrant writing down?

"Kyou-kun, it _is_ you!"

**_Fuck._ **

"Say something," Tobirama demanded harshly. "What did you do to our father?"

"It's just a genjutsu," Izuna answered for her, standing firmly between them with his arms crossed over his armored chest. "He'll be fine—probably."

"What do you mean, probably?"

"Anyone who can hurt a child doesn't deserve to live." Everyone turned to regard Kyou and she grabbed a fistful of Izuna's sleeve to keep her mind from spiraling into a memory filled haze. "He's alive, so be grateful."

She met Tobirama's gaze with some difficulty and held it, willing her conviction to come across clearly. Given their last interaction, he had no reason to doubt her. She'd killed her own clansmen when they threatened his brother, after all. If her family wasn't exempt, his wasn't either.

He clicked his tongue and looked away, the very picture of an anime punk. It almost made her laugh. Almost.

"Kyou-kun," Itama's voice, though soft, grated on her nerves. "I never got to say thank you, before—."

"Don't!" The heterochromatic child looked at her with wide eyes, clearly not expecting her anger. "Don't you _dare_ thank me for that."

He wilted and Hashirama scowled.

"Hey," he said crossly. "You don't have to be mean!"

She barked a harsh laugh. "Mean? Ok, sure, I'm mean. Let's go with that."

"Anija," Izuna said, pleading. "We should go. He might wake up, soon."

He was right, even if it hurt her pride to admit it. She'd never held an enemy in her genjutsu, so she had no idea how long they had before he could attack again. Madara looked torn, but he nodded.

"You're right, Izuna. Let's go."

Kyou wasted no time launching herself into the nearest tree, but Madara lingered. 

"You'll come to play with me, again, right," Hashirama was asking, like the delusional optimist he was. Even his brothers were looking at him like he was crazy. 

Madara's sigh was audible even from her perch. "No, Hashi. I won't."

When he and Izuna joined her in the tree, his eyes were still black. Was it wrong to be happy about that? 

Below her, she caught sight of Warai moving through the underbrush.

"Where the fuck were you?"

He looked up at her and she swore he was smirking. "You had it under control. You let your chakra stop moving, though."

Asshole. Coward. Cowardly asshole. Fuck.

_**Fuck.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are interested in this kind of thing, here's [Kyou's Theme Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uX64K1l8GU0). :) I have a playlist I use to get in the right mindset to write her, but it's a little spoilery so I don't know about sharing it. Let me know if you want it.
> 
> Kyou is, without a doubt, my all time favorite oc. I want to use her in more things, but I don't want to start anything new while I still have these going. T_T
> 
> [Truck-kun](https://ih1.redbubble.net/image.761262045.2536/flat,750x,075,f-pad,750x1000,f8f8f8.jpg) :)


	9. Malaise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while, I know. I've been working on a really big essay all month. It's due tomorrow, lol. I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter and I feel like Tobirama's way too OOC, but I've been struggling with how to incorporate a proper timeskip. So, this chapter takes place the winter after last chapter's summer, and Kyou is officially five. The next time we see her, she'll be older. I'm tired of toddlers.
> 
> [This song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IhoPpHYXjo) heavily inspired this chapter.  
> Here's [Kyou's Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-0KeHCqwjnNVFmS7AmXjUl1R8EHNHowJ) for those of you who are interested.

Shuji looked down at his daughter. She looked like a miniature of himself with her red armor and sour expression. With a sigh, he placed a hand on her head, careful not to undo his mother’s work with her hair.

“Stay close to me,” he ordered, tone brooking no argument. “Be my shadow, this time, alright? I’ll do the fighting, so don’t use your sharingan unless absolutely necessary.”

She looked up at him in surprise, dark eyes wide and fearful. “But, the council—.”

He sank to one knee, placing both his hands on her shoulders. She’d grown over the past year, exponentially. At five she was almost as tall as Izuna, the eight year old and his father deliciously bitter about that development. Kyou was growing fast, faster than any of her peers, and Shuji could only wonder if it came from her mother’s family. Sometimes, he was tempted to ask, but it would be too much trouble for only one question.

“You’re of age, now, Kyou. There are no more exceptions being made for you. You’re mine to deal with, understand?”

She nodded, gaze falling some. “I’m sorry, father.”

His grip tightened on her shoulders. “Don’t be. It was my mistake. You make it easy to forget how young you are, Kyou, but I shouldn’t have. It was only a small setback, and it wasn’t all bad.” She’d gained a summons during her time in the archives, after all, and had begun specialized suiton training as a result. Her suiton was another thing he wanted to ask his wife about, but the idea of going through all that hassle was just…

Annoying.

He stood, laying a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Stay with me. I won’t let anyone touch you.”

And he didn’t. Kyou stayed beside him throughout the battle against the Shimura Clan, her eyes dark and listless in a way that twisted Shuji’s face into a deep scowl. She looked over the aftermath of their victory, expression so carefully blank it was like looking at her mother.

“Kyou,” he said as he deftly untied the knots of her armor, hands slick with the blood of his enemies. “How has your training been? Your summons is teaching you properly, yes?”

She hummed, not at all the excited child who’d come running to his side when she’d first summoned the strange doglike creature. Her brown eyes were unfocused and tired in a way no child’s should be.

He waved off his mother’s hands, taking the comb from her and slowly detangling Kyou’s silky hair himself. “Have you learned anything interesting? Last time, you said he was teaching you to sense the water in the air.”

His daughter shrugged, expression still blank. It was disconcerting to look at with her mother sitting in his periphery with the exact same face, even if she was blurry without the use of his sharingan. Maybe, his daughter wasn’t cursed with his looks, after all.

He wiped at the blood spatter on her face, the white cloth in his hand turning red with the stuff. He watched as her eyes focused on it, her breath hitching audibly. Fuck.

He really should have known. Everything had a price. His fading eyesight was proof of that. He was already nearing his forties—a feat few shinobi achieved—but Kyou’s eyes would probably fail much sooner than his—if she attained the Mangekyou, of course. It would probably be a good idea to begin training her for sightless combat, just in case.

He stepped out into the night as his mother shut the door on him, insisting that he leave while she tended to Kyou. Her fussing was becoming a nuisance, and she was starting to monopolize more and more of her granddaughter’s time, filling her head with useless female knowledge. She was old, though, older than most of the elders on the council, and would likely soon be gone. Letting her fuss over Kyou for however long she had left would likely prove inconsequential.

“Shuji.”

Automatically, his face settled into a scowl, the expression easy and familiar. His cousin, Tajima, stood before him, arms crossed over his chest.

“Tajima-sama.” Oh, how that suffix rankled.

The Clan Head looked at him for a long moment. Then, “Madara awakened his sharingan.”

Shuji inclined his head, a sneer tugging at the scar on his face. “Congratulations. It’s about time.”

Tajima’s expression soured. “I’m planning on presenting him as my official heir once he turns ten, next year. If you want Kyou to stand against him, you’ll have to pull him out of that rut before then.”

Shuji scoffed, crossing his arms in a mirror of his cousin’s stance. “What does it matter to you what I do with Kyou? Your brat can’t take up the heir’s mantle until he comes of age, anyway.” By then, Kyou would be eleven and definitely strong enough to take down any opposition to her rightful place in the Clan. Of course, Tajima already knew that.

“Your son is a genius,” the other man admitted easily. “And an asset to the Clan. But, cousin, you must realize that his growth has slowed down, as of late. His peers are catching up to him, and soon he will be just another child. It would be a shame for all that training to go to waste.”

Why was Tajima telling him this? Shuji was well aware of Kyou’s…difficulties. He’d made a mistake and pushed her too far too soon and now she was reaping the consequences. He knew what a flashback looked like—he had enough of his own to recognize the signs—and he kicked himself for forgetting what a sharingan could do to a young mind.

“Mind your son, Tajima-sama,” he spat. “And I’ll mind mine.”

His cousin regarded him for another moment before nodding stiffly and turning away. With conscious effort, he forced the stiffness from his shoulders, rolling his neck from side to side. His mother stepped out of his home, placing a worn hand on his shoulder as she left for her own. Inside, Kyou was already in their bed, huddled up against her mother’s side as though the woman cared. He had never understood the girl’s attachment to his wife. Yes, they were mother and child, but no words had ever been exchanged, no affection ever shown. The woman sat still unless prompted, mind shuttered off from the rest of the world. It was her own fault, of course; the result of a choice she shouldn’t have made. Still, he sometimes wondered if it would be worth it to let Kyou meet the woman she clung to so desperately, to see the kind of person her mother really was.

Not for the first time, he dismissed those thoughts. With a sigh, he began his nightly ablutions, splashing his face with cool, clean water his daughter had brought into existence.

That was another thing. Her suiton was highly unusual. His nature was fire, like most of the Clan, and he knew for a fact that her mother’s was lightning, as out of practice as she was after fifteen years. Of his children before Kyou, only three had lived long enough to be trained, and each of them had taken after him. It was another mystery only his wife could solve, and one he refused to pursue.

Slipping into the bed, he lay still beside his wife and child, both females ignoring him. His wife lay on her back, eyes closed as she breathed evenly. Kyou was a lump beneath the blanket, sticking to her mother’s side like a burr. She would straighten out over the course of the night, and maybe even cling to him by the end of it. They would need another bed soon, especially if Kyou kept growing at the rate she had been. She would be tall. That was beyond doubt. Probably taller than him, just like her mother. Hopefully, taller than Madara. It was a small, petty wish, but he made it fervently all the same.

Of course, their home was too small to accommodate more sleeping quarters. The single room they’d shared for all of Kyou’s life was all Tajima would allow them. If he tried to ask for another, larger home, he’d be met with staunch opposition from both his cousin and much of the council. As it was, the rations afforded to his household were far too few to support all three of them. Tajima’s wife, Atsuko, controlled the grain supply with an iron fist and consistently starved out her husband’s opposition within the Clan. Such conviction was admirable in a Clan Matriarch, but less so when _he_ was the opposition. As it was, he struggled to feed both himself and Kyou, let alone his wife.

Maybe, the woman had outlived her usefulness. It wasn’t as though she could give him more children—not that he’d try for any with Kyou sharing the bed—and she wasn’t even counted when the rations were distributed anymore. Everyone in the Clan was just waiting for her to die. He knew several women who would gladly take her place, too.

Kyou would be upset, though.

As if triggered by his thoughts, his daughter began to twitch in her sleep. With a sigh, he pulled back the blanket. She was crying, again, the tears falling from tightly closed eyes as she relived some horror or another. He sat up and pulled the child into his lap, cradling her against him. She quieted almost immediately and he let out a soft huff at his own expense. Was there anyone else in the world who would take comfort from his embrace? Even Kyou, when awake, recoiled from his touch far more often than she accepted it. Memories of her siblings, all long dead, rose unbidden in his mind. None had lived long enough to amount to much, two falling in battle, one to illness, and others, like her twin, to his own hand. Of all his children, only she had awakened the sharingan; only she denied him with a smug grin; only she would be missed if taken.

Looking back, it was a miracle any of his children lived long enough to even go to battle. He had no patience for infants and even less for idiots—which most children were. Kyou was special in ways he didn’t really understand. Ways which almost drove him to her mother for answers.

Ways which left him determined to continue the lie he’d spun all those years ago, training her properly and giving her genius a meaning.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t considered coming clean. He had no sons, but in a Clan such things mattered little. His daughter could be his heir just as easily, but she could not be the _Clan’s_ heir. It was nonsense, really. Even without his parental bias, he knew Kyou was better suited to a leadership position than either of Tajima’s brats. He was certain that, had he raised her as a daughter, she would have insisted on training her ninjutsu, regardless. It was simply her nature. Already, she had used her sharingan to memorize much of the Clan archives. Which of the elders could confidently say that? The girl consumed knowledge at a rate which sometimes frightened him, but mostly filled him with pride. Had her sisters been like her? Had he wasted such precious potential by ending their lives?

He refused to dwell on it. The past couldn’t be undone.

His only child moved in his arms, burrowing into his chest in a motion she would never make while awake. He ran a hand over her silky hair. Kyou. Her tongue was sharp, but her heart was soft. It almost upset him to think of how the world would harden it, and the role he would play in doing so.

Almost.

* * *

Kyou knelt on the hard packed earth outside her grandmother’s house, the old woman sitting in a chair behind her and running a wooden comb through her dark hair. Hands roughened by time and work scraped gently against the nape of her neck and Kyou shivered.

“Sorry,” her grandmother chuckled softly, the sound full of warmth and fondness Kyou couldn’t find anywhere else. “You’re just like me, that way. Your grandfather would always touch me there, no matter how many times I told him to stop.”

Kyou didn’t like the sound of that—it certainly wasn’t anything _she’d_ tolerate in a relationship—but her grandmother’s tone made it clear she wasn’t all that upset about it.

Her hair was gathered up into what was now her signature ponytail, for all it never stayed in place for long. She made to stand, but a hand on her head kept her on her knees.

“Tell me, Kyou-chan, what’s wrong?”

A lot of things, grandma. _So_ many things.

“Nothing, baa-chan,” she said as her hair was braided—it wouldn’t last, either, and they both knew it. “I’m fine.”

The old woman hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Kyou-chan, everyone is worried about you. We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Everyone. Right. The only people who ever genuinely worried about _her_ and not their investment in her future were her grandmother and cousins—as much as children could be concerned for others—and she wasn’t all that inclined to share, even with them.

If something was wrong, and _stayed_ wrong, maybe she wouldn’t have to join the campaigns this winter. Satan wouldn’t be happy, but Tajima would, so maybe she could use him as a shield from Satan’s inevitable wrath? Anything would be better than fighting again, killing again, looking into _red eyes_ again—.

Warm arms wrapped themselves around her narrow shoulders, pulling her back against an aged chest as her grandmother whispered into her ear, her horrible, cursed name said over and over in a sweet, coaxing tone. Her ragged breaths slowed, no longer sharp and painful in her chest, and she clung to the brittle arms embracing her with all the strength in her little four year old hands.

“Kyou-chan,” her grandmother crooned, coming to kneel in front of her and brushing her fringe out of her eyes with long, elegant nails. “Oh, Kyou-chan, it’s alright. You’re fine, you’re with me, no one will hurt you.”

That was a lie. Not even grandma tried to stop Satan when he was in a rage. Still, Kyou buried her face in the old woman’s kimono, accepting the comfort for what it was.

“Tell me, Kyou-chan,” her grandmother’s voice was slow and measured, and Kyou suddenly felt like running the hell away. “What set you off? Was it something I said? Did I touch you somewhere you didn’t like? Please tell me, sweetheart, so I don’t do it again.”

Yep. That walking-on-eggshells tone, the ‘it’s my fault’ spiel, the ever so gentle pats on the head, they were all so horrifyingly familiar. She could almost smell the Fabuloso used to mop the floors of the shrink’s office her—Julia’s—father took her to every other week for over fifteen years of her life. She hated that smell. It had officially tainted all memories of her mother, since that weasel of a man insisted on dragging them out into the light and examining them from every unnecessary angle. All to try and dig out a secret her mind had erased from existence. Really, if she forgot it, it was probably for the best, right? That’s how that whole memory loss thing worked, right? Being asked about something everyone insisted happened but she would never recall on pain of death—literally—was really annoying and just plain weird.

This time, at least, she could answer the questions.

“Nothing,” she knew what that sigh meant. “Really. You didn’t do anything, baa-chan. Honest.”

Her grandmother pulled away, searching her face with worried dark eyes. She cupped Kyou’s face between her hands and pressed their foreheads together.

“There is nothing wrong with being afraid, Kyou-chan, no matter what your father might say. I remember how he was after his first kill, and he struggled, too. Everyone does. The sharingan is as much a curse as it is a gift and it can give even the most mundane things power over us. Please, Kyou, let me help you take it back.”

Kyou looked into her grandmother’s eyes, the sincerity there bulldozing the hang ups she’d developed surrounding her mental health.

“Red and white,” she mumbled, kinda sorta hoping that the fabric of the kimono would muffle her answer. She didn’t even want to say it, the memory of blood on snow, the light fading from red sharingan in white faces, the red and white uchiwa on their backs— _red eyes and white hair._

Her grandmother hummed, accepting her answer. “I see. How unfortunate, then, that those are the Clan’s colors.”

Yeah. Exactly. Woe was her.

“Well,” the smile on her wrinkled face was kind and knowing, like she had somehow learned more than Kyou had shared. “I have an idea how to help with that. Shuji-kun won’t be too happy about it, though.”

Immediately, Kyou resolved to do whatever her grandmother told her to, if only for the sanctioned rebellion she promised.

That resolve flagged some when she found herself kneeling in her grandmother’s house, a nauseating bouquet of red and white flowers lying on a mat between them. She should have known that she would seize any opportunity to make a ‘proper girl’ out of her. It was a little offensive, but also a welcome reprieve from all the pro-violence propaganda everyone else kept shoving down her throat.

“Now, Kyou,” her grandmother began, her back straight as a rod and her hands folded elegantly in her lap. “I want you to tell me—as much as you can—what words these colors bring to mind.”

She lifted a white flower, the petals paper thin and many layered. It was pretty, but the overlapping scents of so many plants made Kyou want to sneeze.

“Emptiness,” she responded honestly, since white was technically the absence of color— _albinism is the absence of melanin._

Her grandmother smiled. “White camellias are symbols of adoration,” she pressed the long stem into a handy pot filled with substrate, slender fingers adjusting its position. “They represent innocent love and are the perfect gift for a child to give their parents.”

She picked up another white flower, this one with a million more petals and a thicker stem. Kyou scrunched her face as she tried to come up with another word for white.

“Cold.” Like snow and the blade _pressed against her neck._

It was added to the pot. “White chrysanthemums can mean honesty and loyalty, and are often used as symbols of fealty or to express sincerity.”

A red flower was raised, and Kyou actually recognized it as a spider lily. It was in so many animes.

“Blood.” It was the obvious connection.

The flower was added to the pot, standing in sharp contrast to its white companions. Her grandmother’s smile was smaller this time.

“Spider lilies are often heralded as symbols of death or grief, but they can also mean nostalgia and memories.”

This continued as more red and white flowers were added to the arrangement, the red flowers surrounded by the white in a weird bullseye effect. For every word Kyou gave, her grandmother provided a vaguely positive definition. It wasn’t hard to see what she was doing—trying to create more positive associations with the colors than negative—and Kyou was sure that if she were a normal four year old it would have the effect she was trying for. As it was, she was just glad she got to avoid all those annoying elders for once. Plus, she got to spend time with her grandma!

“Kyou-chan,” the old woman said softly, her wrinkled mouth downturned in a frown as she sighed. “I should have known you’d see right through me.”

Um, what?

A withered hand reached out and took hers, the surprisingly rough skin snagging on Kyou’s callouses. “I know you don’t like hearing this, Kyou-chan, but you _are_ a girl and there are skills girls are expected to learn.” Ah, so that was it. “While I agree that genius like yours shouldn’t be left to waste, I also think it could be applied to more than just violence.” She tucked an errant lock of hair behind one of Kyou’s largish ears. “And I can’t help but think you would benefit from that, too.”

Kyou looked down at her hands, her little fingers clutching at the dark fabric of her kimono in a vice grip. She wasn’t sure how to reply. Her first instinct was to deny the need for any kind of coddling, to insist she was fine and perfectly capable of living a life of needless and excessive violence—.

She stopped herself before she could, the words twisting in her mouth until she bit her tongue. That was the issue, wasn’t it? She wasn’t fine with that. At all. And she didn’t want to be. The part of her which had spent over twenty years in a(n outwardly) peaceful society took one look at the path she was being forced to walk and screamed at the top of its lungs, taking particular offense at the other part of her which felt no remorse for the violence she’d committed. Was that a thing? Feeling guilty about not feeling guilty? Was that possible?

“Besides,” her grandmother was saying. “There will come a day when you are no longer able to pass as a boy, Kyou. When that happens, the Clan will not be kind to you. I don’t know if I will be there to see it, so I want to teach you a few of the skill you’ll need before I go.”

That…was a horrifying thought. A world without baa-chan? She’d never even considered it. The old woman had always been there, taking up a bigger portion of her life than her own mother. Her grandmother tended her wounds after every beating, washed and brushed her hair, gave her an extra portion of food whenever the village rations were low.

Kyou launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around her grandmother’s waist, burying her face in in her chest.

“No!”

A breathless laugh shook them both. “No?”

“No,” Kyou affirmed. “Baa-chan will live forever!”

A hand smoothed down her hair, pulling her back and gently forcing her to look up into rheumy dark eyes.

“Of course, I will, Kyou. Just for you.”

She recognized then hollow promise for what it was, but she didn’t say anything. She just sat in her grandmother’s lap and let herself enjoy being pet like the little girl she was. If she activated her sharingan to keep the memory fresh forever, that was nobody’s business but hers.

Of course, the small reprieve her grandmother’s ‘therapy sessions’ granted her was not without its consequences. Several days after the first, Kyou trudged through the forest with a bruise the exact shape of Satan’s fist sitting square on her cheek. Several others were hidden beneath her kimono, the hand-me-down several sizes too large and dragging in the snow underfoot. Beside her, Warai huffed.

“I don’t understand,” he said in that soft but judging way he had. “You don’t want to fight?”

She sighed, eyes rolling as she tried to answer that question for the millionth time. “No. Of course, I don’t. Why would I?”

“Because you’ll die if you don’t.”

Well, yeah. She knew that.

“I know that,” she told him, jumping over a fallen log with ease. “Wanting to defend myself isn’t the same as wanting to hurt other people, Warai-san. I don’t want to be the kind of person who goes out of their way to hurt others.”

The hyena cocked his head. “But you already are. Or did I completely misunderstand your relationship with your kinsmen?”

Oof.

“That’s different,” she insisted as she picked up a funny looking stick and swung it like a sword. “They started it!”

“Do they remember starting it? It seemed like Izuna didn’t.”

“Perceived reality and true reality are different, but that doesn’t change the fact that they hurt me first!”

“You’re still going out of your way to hurt them, though.”

She turned to look him in his brown eyes, hands propped on her hips and an admittedly childish pout hurting her bruised face. “That’s different! Pranks don’t leave people dead, Warai-san!”

The hyena didn’t look convinced. Kyou huffed and turned away from him, continuing toward the river where they would begin the next phase of her training. A flash of red caught her eye and she added ‘cute tiny birds’ to her list of ‘good things that are red’. It probably wasn’t a proper technique backed by science or anything, but her grandmother was convinced that making the good things outnumber the bad would help. The old woman expected an update at dinner every day, too, and always seemed to know when Kyou was lying.

“I don’t understand this human Clan,” her summons admitted quietly. “Your women are kept weak even as the men dwindle in number. No one has enough to eat, but no one tries to hunt or farm, instead throwing every available male into a war with no purpose. Should the Uchiha win, what will they gain? Land no one will till? Prestige only they will care for? Even more enemies? It makes no sense.”

Kyou chuckled dryly. “Yeah. That’s it in a nutshell. All anyone cares about it getting revenge and the Clan has stagnated as a result. I’ll bet the Senju are in the same boat, but they’ll never admit it. We’re killing ourselves while trying to kill each other and it’s stupid.”

They continued on in silence, the air between them thick with the tension that always accompanied Warai’s questions about Kyou’s reluctance to fight. As the trees began to thin and give way to the riverbank, she sighed loudly and turned to him.

“It’s not that I don’t like fighting,” she said as she stepped out into the winter sun, looking across to the other side of the river with her sharingan for anyone who might make her day worse. “I do. I’m good at it and it’s always fun to beat people bigger than me but…”

“Is it the killing, then?”

She watched as the hyena stepped out onto the river’s surface, the water still running despite the winter chill. “That’s the thing, it _should_ be. Killing people shouldn’t be so easy, Warai. I’m little! And weak! A-and I have no experience, but I still killed them and it was easy! I don’t even feel bad about it.”

He hummed, lapping up some water before responding. “Well, should you feel bad? They were trying to kill you, weren’t they?”

No. They weren’t. Not at first, anyway. But…

“They were going to hurt someone,” she said quietly. “A child. Children don’t choose war, we have it thrust upon us and are just expected to accept that it’s something we have to do but it isn’t! I wasn’t even supposed to be there, Warai-san! I was too little, but Satan convinced the council I could handle it.”

“And you couldn’t.”

She laughed harshly, the sound oddly reminiscent of the hyena’s own cry. “Obviously not. I’m barely even allowed out of the archives, anymore. Baa-chan is teaching me _flower arranging_! It’s like they think I’m done! Like I won’t ever be able to fight again, and they’re just giving up on me! It’s not my fault these fucking eyes remember everything they see!”

“What?”

Kyou opened her mouth to reply before slamming it shut. That wasn’t Warai.

Her palm hit her face with a resounding whap! before dragging its way down. Of course. Of fucking course he would be there. Every fucking time! Was it any wonder, then, that he was so central to her traumas? That is was _his_ face she saw when thinking of the worst days of her life? You’d think it’d be Satan, but no.

Still standing on the water, Warai’s hackles rose and he growled at the intruder behind her. She took a moment to seriously consider running away. Really, he was the last person she wanted to see right now—or for the foreseeable future, even—and she’d always planned on leaving one day. The thought of her grandmother waiting for her at home was enough to quell that irrational thought.

With a sigh and a carefully crafted scowl, she turned. “What the fuck are you doing here, Tobirama?”

Fuck. She shouldn’t have turned around. He was standing there _in his armor_ with that _big honkin’ sword_ that was way too big for him strapped to his back. His arms were crossed over his chest and his legs spread in some sort of power stance. He was bigger than her—always had been, but the margin was smaller, now—and definitely stronger. His hair was still _white_ and his _red eyes_ were filled with anger and hatred.

Shit! Come one, Kyou, find something good! Baa-chan will be sad if you don’t! His hair is _white_ and his eyes are _red_ , but that’s fine! That’s so totally fine because—!

He’s cute! Yeah, it’s fine because he’s cute!

Wait, no!

His scowl deepened, adorable—no!—face twisting as he glared at her. “I could ask you the same thing.”

She huffed, copying his stance and raising her chin. “But you didn’t! Go away, I’m training.”

He scoffed, taking a step toward her and ignoring Warai’s growls. “What did you mean, about not forgetting?”

Uh oh spaghettios.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, _Senju_.”

Yeah, it was a cheap shot, but whatever.

Those _red_ — ~~cute~~ —eyes narrowed and he reached over his shoulder to draw that too big sword. “Bold of you to think you have a choice. Your brothers aren’t here to save you, this time.”

It was her turn to scoff. “Excuse you, _I_ saved _them_. And they’re not my brothers, they’re my cousins. My brother is dead. You know that.”

His glare wavered but only for a second. He growled, the sound unexpectedly cute— _no!_ —coming from a child. “Explain! The sharingan—!”

“Is none of your fucking business,” she repeated, shoving her treacherous thoughts into a box and lighting it on fire. “You know that, too.”

A vein ticked in his forehead, one pale eyebrow twitching in time with it in a way that was almost— ** _no!_** no more cute! He took a deep breath and sheathed his sword with what looked like physical pain.

“Kyou,” he said slowly in that tone she hated oh so much. “Do you know how little the world knows about the sharingan.” Uh, yeah. “It’s a mystery to everyone not an Uchiha.” Wow, she never would have guessed. “My father would give a lot for any information you might share—.”

Wait what.

She couldn’t help it. She really couldn’t. The laughter erupted from within her gut and left her helpless in its wake. She was wheezing, struggling for breath, trying desperately to get herself under control before Tobirama blew a gasket.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she held up her hands and took a moment to appreciate— ** _no!_** —the bright red flush on his pale face. “Were you serious?”

“At least my father wouldn’t beat you,” he spat and she immediately sobered. Ah, he was staring at the mottled bruise taking up most of her face. His sudden overture made sense, now…sort of.

“Yes, he would. I’m an Uchiha, Tobi,” she continued before he could interject. “That’s all that matters to him. If I went to him and offered information on the sharingan like you said, he’d still rip mine from my skull and give them to a Senju. Then, he’d probably breed me for more and then desecrate my corpse once I’d served my purpose.” She shrugged. “Tajima would probably do the same to any of you guys, too, though, so it’s fine.”

Ah, poor Tobirama. He looked so horrified. But not surprised, she noted.

“You already knew all that, though.” He flinched, just barely. “Were you trying to get me killed, Tobi? That’s not very nice.”

He scowled again, the expression so lovable— ** _no_** —on his child face. “Shut up!”

In a flash his sword was drawn and he was coming toward her. Shit. She reached out with her chakra, the river rising to answer her call but too slowly to be effective. Water still rushed past her, forming a solid wall between her and Tobirama. Warai stepped in front of her, lowering his head and growling at the Senju boy.

“Are you an idiot?” The hyena’s normally soft voice was rough and angry, like he’d swallowed a bag of rocks. “You must be, if you really thought I would let you hurt my cub.”

Tobirama looked at the hyena in surprise, but the expression quickly gave way to anger. “I see. I didn’t realize—,” he cut himself off, snarling. “Next time, I won’t stop to talk.”

Then, he vanished. Gone in an instant. She turned her sharingan on the trees, searching for him or anyone else who might be hiding out of sight.

She took in a shaky breath and buried her face in her hands.

**_Fuck._ **


	10. Ding Dong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #2, UK Singles Chart, April, 2013.  
> Bet you though I wouldn't do it so soon, huh? Well, I did. (ʘ‿ʘ) Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahem! Just a warning that the gender binary bares its hideous head in this chapter. Also more ableism and other closed minded nonsense. Thank you very much, muchas gracias.
> 
> Ok! A note on ages! As far as this story goes, the Senju trio are all one year older than the Uchiha trio. So, as of this chapter, their ages are:  
> Madara: 12 and Hashirama: 13  
> Izuna: 11 and Tobirama: 12  
> Kyou: 8 and Itama: 9
> 
> Hope that's clear. It'll be another couple of chapters before the next time skip, I promise. The plot is finally moving again! Yay!

Tobirama sighed, closing his eyes and counting backward from ten to keep his mounting ire in check. The seal was ruined. He would need to start over, spend another week setting up the delicate array on another scroll begged from the elders using ink he would need to make himself, as he was no longer allowed to requisition any from the storerooms—a restriction which would soon extend to scrolls, he was sure. Worst of all, his sensei would be cross in that quiet, unjudging way she had, all the while insisting that, no, she was not actually cross, and could Tobirama please stop projecting human emotions onto her, thank you.

With slow, exaggerated movements, he set down his calligraphy brush and pushed himself up out of the somewhat uncomfortable position he’d been in for who knew how long, his face all but pressed against the velum. Settling back againstly his heels, he looked up at his older brother with a carefully cool expression.

“Anija,” he greeted, pointedly not wiping at the ink splattered across his face and clothing. “Can I help you?”

To his credit, Hashirama’s chakra felt chagrinned, flickering earnestly as he reached out and smudged the ink on Tobirama’s cheek. “Sorry, Tobi, I was too excited.”

Tobirama shook his head, unclenching his teeth before speaking. “It’s fine,” he lied. “What do you need?”

Immediately, all signs of remorse left Hashirama’s chakra, replaced by his characteristic exuberance. He grabbed hold of Tobirama’s wrist and pulled him to his feet, dragging his younger brother along behind him. This was an unsurprisingly common occurrence, not a single flicker of chakra catching his attention as they rushed across the village to the common training ground. Butsuma and Itama were there, along with a handful of the elders who insisted on making Tobirama’s life harder than it needed to be. They were all strangely smug, clearly pleased about something. Itama’s chakra came across as sheepish, almost shrinking under the attention, but he brightened as his brothers approached. 

“Anija, aniki, you’re here!”

Tobirama bowed to his father, waiting to be acknowledged before bowing to the elders. Only then did he turn to his sibling.

“Itama,” the youngest of Butsuma’s living children deflated a bit at his stern tone. “Maybe you can explain why Hashirama dragged me here?”

Itama bounced from dejection to excitement as quickly as Hashirama. “Even better, I can show you!”

Tobirama watched as his brother placed his hands together in the Snake seal, his chakra rushing through his coils in a familiar way. Red eyes widened as the chakra seeped into the ground, grabbing hold of roots and infusing them with energy. They burst through the ground, wrapping feebly around Itama’s ankles before falling limp, the boy panting heavily from the effort.

“Did you see,” he asked, voice expressing his joy almost as clearly as his chakra. “I can do it again if—.”

“I saw.” It was hard not to. The brilliant light which accompanied mokuton was almost blinding. It was why he avoided the training ground frequented by his older brother, no matter how much Hashirama begged him to join in. It was just too hard to concentrate. “Congratulations, Itama.”

The elders were nodding among themselves, heads bobbing as their chakra flared with satisfaction.

“How auspicious,” the worst of the lot crowed. “The mokuton is a fickle thing; two bearers in a generation is unheard of! You must be proud, Butsuma.”

Tobirama felt his father’s triumph. “Indeed. With sons like mine, it’s hard not to be.”

His brothers radiated pure joy and Tobirama let himself pretend, just for a moment, that he was included in that statement. His delusion was short lived, however, as Butsuma turned his attention onto him.

“Tobirama,” his father’s voice was stern and cold, completely devoid of the warmth he’d shown his brothers. “How goes the seal? I recall I was promised a demonstration soon.”

Tobirama did not wilt under the force of his father’s stare, instead meeting it head on. Butsuma’s face was a tanned blur, with only vague shapes hinting at what he knew to be sharp features, but he knew he was frowning. His chakra was laden with disappointment.

“Apologies, father,” he said with a bow. “It will not be ready for another week.”

Butsuma clicked his tongue, the sound cutting at Tobirama’s pride. “Again? What is that foul bird teaching you?”

Tobirama looked up sharply, the words to defend his sensei rising in his throat, but Hashirama stepped between him and their father, chakra flaring with indignation.

“It’s not his fault, father!” Hashirama spoke with a freedom Tobirama had never been allowed, his words devoid of the formality that had long become his younger brother’s defining trait. “I messed it up! Look!”

Hashirama held out his hands, showing Butsuma something Tobirama’s eyes couldn’t see. Whatever was there, it had the older man huffing in begrudging acceptance.

“Fine. It had better be worth the wait.”

“Of course, father,” Tobirama promised, more than confident that his work would be satisfactory. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

His father waved a hand in dismissal, turning his attention back to Itama. Tobirama wasted no time in leaving the training ground, fully intending to return to his seal. If he hurried, he could probably have something to show Butsuma in a couple of days. Maybe one of the simpler seals would be better? He shook his head to dispel the notion. No. He had spent too long on this one to abandon it halfway.

“I’m sorry, Tobi,” Hashirama said, so softly he almost missed it. “I can help you fix it! I-if you want, that is.”

No, he most certainly did not want. Still, it was kind of him to offer. If Hashirama was anything, it was kind.

“No, thank you, Anija. I will do it myself.”

“Tobi.” He turned around, giving Hashirama the benefit of looking at him while he spoke. His chakra was rife with concern, and Tobirama knew immediately what he was going so say. “You’ll come home, tonight, right? Mother will want to celebrate Itama’s awakening of the mokuton.”

Of course, she would. For a single, fleeting moment, Tobirama was tempted to say no. Then, he sighed. “Of course, Anija. Itama would be sad if I didn’t.”

The brilliant light of his brother’s happiness all but chased him off, a shining beacon in the back of his mind as he returned to the shack which held his calligraphy supplies. The ruined seal was still where he left it, an ink spill so large even he could see it marring the velum. The idea of redoing every stroke set his wrists to aching. Perhaps, he mused, it could be salvaged.

With that thought, he gathered up his brushes and ink, carefully stowing them in their designated travel pouch, before picking up the scroll. The ink was still wet, so he couldn’t roll it the way he normally would, but he picked it up as best he could. This time, as he walked through the village, precariously balancing a scroll which threatened to unroll at the first opportunity, people did notice. They whispered among themselves, chakra pulsing with pity and suspicion. That was always the case when he did something ‘unusual’. The words ‘cursed’ and ‘ _that_ child’ went in one ear and out the other, so familiar now that they may as well not exist. The stigma of his coloration was only off set by his station as Butsuma’s child, and, even then, it wasn’t always enough to keep the worst of their baseless speculation at bay.

At least, he was alive. There had been no talk, as far as he knew, of abandoning him to die, or of taking a more proactive approach to his demise. Somewhat hazy memories of an Uchiha child speaking so easily of her brother’s murder and the hatred she faced for simply _thinking_ differently from the rest of her Clan rose unbidden in his mind and he scowled. Kyou was a sensitive topic in his family, even more so than most other Uchiha, which seemed like something the spiteful hellion would enjoy—and so he resolved never to tell her, should the unlikely opportunity ever arise. She occupied more space in his mind than she should, he knew, but it was hard not to think of her at times like this.

He stepped through the village gates, leaping into the trees with little preamble. At the top of the tallest tree in the copse perched a bird, much larger than any Tobirama, or any other Senju, had ever seen before its summoning, making even Butsuma, the tallest man Tobirama knew, look small. It was looking off into the distance, black wings to their full, staggeringly wide wingspan as it basked in the summer sun. That the tree was strong enough to hold it was a testament to its strength, though it did sway when the winds got caught in the bird’s wings. Slowly, those great wings folded in on themselves, the bird’s down covered head tucking into a ruff of tawny feathers, the long, crooked neck bending in a way that had Tobirama’s aching in sympathy. It turned its head to look at him, large black eye blinking as light glinted off the wickedly curved beak.

“Midori-sensei,” he greeted, bowing his head to the summons which had blessed him with a contract. His gaze focused on talons too big for his eyes to miss as they adjusted their grip on the branch which held their incredible weight.

“Hello, hatchling,” the vulture’s soft voice still surprised him, so at odds with her magnificent size. “What brings you to me? I had thought you would sequester yourself for a few days, yet.”

He hung his head in shame. “I apologize, sensei. I have been meaning to seek you out, but I wanted to be done with the seal before I did so.”

She bobbed her head in the way that he now knew meant she was laughing. “I know, hatchling. I am not offended. Did you finish it?”

He presented the ruined scroll to her, averting his gaze as she looked it over. She hummed in consideration. “I see. Did you wish to know if it is salvageable?”

“Yes, sensei.”

“It is not.”

He had expected that, but the bitter truth of it had him deflating. He found himself suffused in darkness as Midori extended one giant wing, long flight feathers pulling him closer to her warmth. She reached down and pulled gently at his hair with her beak, the deadly instrument cutting a few strands loose despite her tenderness.

“Hatchling,” her tone was kind, but he knew the coming reprimand for what it was. “I understand your frustration. You have labored over this for so long and have put much of yourself into it. That it has come undone is terrible, but your time has not been wasted. Tell me, now that you must do it again, will it take you as long? Having written these words before, will you labor over them as tortuously a second time? Something tells me you will not.”

She was right, of course, he knew she was. Still, he couldn’t help the wave of anger that welled in him when he looked at the ruined velum. Even the cool, calming feel of Midori’s chakra couldn’t soothe his ruffled feathers.

“So quick to anger,” she tutted—never mind how a bird even managed to do that—shaking her head in an eerily human expression. “How such a fire burns in a water natured child I do not know. Do not mistake me,” she added as his shoulders slumped. “It is not a flaw. You are simply unlike any hatchling I have ever had the privilege to teach. It is a chance for me to learn, as well, and I thank you for it.”

It was shallow comfort, but comfort all the same. Tobirama took a moment to manually bolster his spirit, mustering up a small smile for his sensei. It was hard to tell what she thought of that, given the lack of expression on her avian face, but he got the feeling she was humoring him, just a little.

“Hatchling,” she said in that way she had when she was about to launch into a lecture. “There is nothing wrong with your anger. It is valid and warranted. An issue will only arise if you let that anger rule you. You are not your anger, Tobirama, just as you are not your sorrow, or your joy, or your fear. It will pass, and you will remain.”

Her words had merit. He knew they did. He just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to accept them. Later, when he’d calmed down, he would think on them properly.

“Thank you, sensei,” he said sincerely. “I will mind your words.”

She made a sound that might have been a scoff or a snort, spreading her wings to their full, terrifying width. The movement generated a draft which ruffled Tobirama’s hair and pulled at his clothes. He looked upon the giant raptor with awe, the fading sunlight catching the many different shades of brown and black in her shiny feathers.

“Go home, hatchling,” she said gently. “Eat, sleep, bathe; a fresh mind will help, I promise.”

He had to use his chakra to keep his perch on the tree as Midori left it, the wind generated by her wingbeats sending the entire canopy into a flurry of flying leaves and evergreen needles. He had no idea where she roosted at night, but she was always perched on the same tree during the day. She had not returned to the summoning realm since leaving it with him, almost two years past. His Clan treated her with the same stiff tolerance they did him, wary of the carrion eater in a way they likely wouldn’t have been had Hashirama been the one to summon her.

He shook his head, banishing that treacherous thought back to the dark corner of his mind from whence it came. He rolled the ruined scroll, sighing as he did so. He would much rather start on the seal again than head home, but Itama would be sad if he missed the celebration of his accomplishment. And it _was_ and accomplishment. Tobirama was viscerally aware of the odds behind awakening the mokuton. That Hashirama had done so was a miracle on its own; that Itama had also managed it…

He knew he ought to be proud of his brother—and he was—but he couldn’t help but feel…left out. Excluded. An observer in his own home. As he always was. As he would likely be again, during whatever feast his mother had put together in the short time since Itama’s demonstration.

These bitter thoughts accompanied him back into the village, clouding his mind as he dropped off his tools in his shed. The sunlight which had seemed so bright in the treetops was much dimmer on the forest floor, diffused by many layers of leaves and tree trunks into a scattered echo of its true brilliance. There were fewer people out and about in the fading day, and Tobirama used the walk home to set his brooding thoughts aside. It was difficult—likely unnecessarily so—but it needed to be done. For Itama’s sake if nothing else.

It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t be given something else to worry about, anyway.

When he stepped into his home, he was welcomed by the warm chatter of happy voices. He removed his sandals, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves before stepping into the light of the main room. His family was seated around a low, square table, each side occupied. His brothers sat opposite each other with a parent on either side, all four of them smiling in the yellow lamplight. It was Hashirama who noticed him, looking up from a bowl laden with rice.

“Tobi!” The chatter ceased as they all turned to look at him and he felt suddenly small under the weight of their gazes. Hashirama jumped up from his seat, gesturing at the place setting beside him. “Here, Tobi! Come sit!”

He did so, bowing his head in greeting to his father before turning to his mother. Her chakra was dour, churning in that old familiar way. She said nothing, though, and Tobirama dared to hope that tonight would be a good one.

“Tobi,” Hashirama said excitedly, his flaring chakra showing just how much he was restraining himself. “Did you go to see Midori-sensei? Did you?”

Ah, that did it. He could feel their parents’ chakra signatures curdle with unease at the mention of the great vulture. His brothers, unburdened by sensory abilities like his own—or by the need to hone them at all—were unphased by the change in atmosphere, genuinely interested in what he had to say.

“I did,” he confirmed, reaching out and pulling meat from the communal pot in the center of the table.

“Was she able to help you fix the seal? I’m super sorry for messing it up!”

He knew that. He could feel his brother’s remorse, hiding under the thick layer of happiness that never left his chakra. He let a small smile form on his face, turning so Hashirama could see the tiny quirk of his lips. “I know.”

“So, can you fix it?” Itama said around a mouth full of his favorites, prepared just for him. “I want to see what it does.”

So did he.

He sighed. “No. I will have to start from the beginning. It’s fine,” he said, cutting off another apology from Hashirama. “It is an opportunity to improve before I present the final product.”

Butsuma nodded, his chakra mellowing out enough that Tobirama let some of the tension leave his shoulders. “That is a good way of thinking, Tobirama. You two would do well to emulate it.”

Tobirama couldn’t see his father’s face—the harsh features he was told he’d inherited were a blur even sitting as close as they were—but whatever expression Butsuma wore had his brother’s ducking their heads sheepishly. He allowed himself a moment to bask in the rare bit of praise, savoring the taste of the tea.

His mother sniffed disdainfully, reaching across the table to place more meat in Itama’s bowl. “Good to know he has some use.”

There it was. He knew better than to react and instead focused on keeping his attention on his meal. His brothers’ spirits dampened almost in sync, which would have been amusing had anything else caused it.

“Mother,” Hashirama all but whined, much bolder than either of his siblings—a trait granted and indulged by his position as Clan heir. “That’s not fair. Tobi’s great at a lot of things! He invented a new jutsu and he—!”

“That was last spring,” she dismissed easily, not even sparing Tobirama a glance as she reached across his seat to refill Hashirama’s cup. “And hardly anyone can use it.”

“That’s because it’s super awesome,” Hashirama returned, undeterred. “Only really strong shinobi can use it.”

“That’s enough, Naoko,” Butsuma said stiffly, likely cutting off another remark. “This is a happy occasion.”

That was enough to have her holding her tongue, but Tobirama could feel her seething. With a small, internal sigh, he set down his bowl and chopsticks. He ignored his brothers’ incredulity as he stood and bowed to each of his parents.

“Please excuse my rudeness.” The words were flat in his mouth. “But I wish to have the seal ready for demonstration in under a week. I would like to use this time to prepare the necessary materials.”

His mother said nothing, but his father shook his head. “Your time would be better spent resting. We fight the Uchiha tomorrow.”

Just like that, the levity of the occasion was gone, but Tobirama could take solace in knowing he hadn’t caused it, this time.

“I will do so, father,” he said with a bow. He wasted no more time in leaving the family home, stepping out into the cool night air. There was a reason he spent most nights in his shed, surrounded by the scents of velum, leather, and ink. It would be worse, now, he knew, since he was the only living child not to awaken the mokuton. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t tried. As soon as Hashirama awakened it, he tried everything he could to make his chakra glow the same way, but to no avail. That Itama had managed it so easily…

No, he couldn’t think like that. It wasn’t his brother’s fault.

It was time to follow Midori’s advice. At the very least, sleep would put some distance between his mind and his troubles.

The next morning dawned dim and grey, as they always did before a battle, it seemed. The shinobi gathered at the gates were grim, with only a few daring to break the silence with lackluster jokes and half whispered laughter. Butsuma stood at the head of the crowd, towering over many of his kin. He was speaking steadily—Tobirama could hear his voice, could recognize the words in some distant corner of his mind—but his chakra was a mess of emotion. Anger, hate, sorrow, anticipation, anger, grief, anger, anger, anger. It was almost too much for Tobirama to bear. Luckily, his brothers stood on either side of him, their ambient joy, while out of place, washing out the anxieties surrounding them.

“I wonder if we’ll see Kyou-kun,” Itama said, as he always did. “He still won’t talk to me.” And he deflated, as he always did.

Hashirama placed a hand on his youngest brother’s shoulders, as he always did. “Don’t worry, Itama! I’m sure Kyou will come around! It took Madara years before he started speaking to me again! Maybe his little brother just needs more time!”

As he always did, Itama bounced right back to glowing optimism. “Yeah! Maybe you’re right! Thanks, Anija!”

That exact interaction played itself out, word for word, every time they battled the Uchiha. Tobirama had it memorized. And, like he always did, he wondered how it was possible that no one had noticed Kyou’s true sex—or how Hashirama still hadn’t realized she wasn’t Madara’s sibling. It hadn’t taken him very long to figure it out, but Itama still thought of her as a boy. She never once corrected him, but the way she spoke during their last encounter made it clear to Tobirama that she was aware of it herself, at least—and of the fate that would befall her should he tell anyone the truth.

That was why he hadn’t, though he was loathe to admit it. She was younger than Itama. The way the men of his Clan—any Clan, he was sure—treated the women they encountered in battle was abhorrent and debauched. It was the main argument his mother used to try and convince his cousin Touka to quit the field, but she persevered. Kyou did, too, it seemed, though her Clan had the foresight to disguise her properly.

Not that any disguise would hide her from Tobirama.

Even now, as the Senju forces ran through the trees, he could sense her. She stood out among her kin like a beacon, suiton so distinct against a background of katon, her natural opposite. It was blurry and distant, but he could remember her saying she was the only one with chakra like hers. She was also the only female among the Uchiha, that he could see. It always felt off to him, but Touka was only one of maybe three women among the Senju, so maybe he was reading to far into things.

The Senju came to a stop on one side of a large clearing, residual chakra in the soil and trees marking it as a past battlefield. The Uchiha did the same, filling the trees opposite their rivals, and Tobirama took the opportunity to scan the area for traps. His eyes may be useless, but his sensing more than made up for it. He turned to where his father stood on a branch below him and shook his head. Though he couldn’t see it, he was sure his father gave some signal to the others, as they immediately rushed into the clearing. They were met head on by the Uchiha, the swirling mass of angry chakra promising to give Tobirama a headache, as it always did.

Still, he didn’t hesitate to jump into the fray, drawing his sword as he dove onto Izuna, Madara’s younger brother, from above. The younger boy cursed him, rolling away from his blade at the last possible second.

“Fucking Senju,” he said, pulling his own blade up to defend against Tobirama’s onslaught. Their faces were close enough that he could make out the upturned slant of Izuna’s dark eyes. “Always so eager for a fight!”

He didn’t dignify that with an answer, instead pushing his opponent back with a sweeping blow. He used the space that granted him to cast one of his more recent experimental jutsus, two exact replicas of himself poofing into existence on either side of him. He could sense Izuna’s hesitation, the Uchiha stepping back before, unthinkably, turning his head and looking away from Tobirama.

“Kyou,” he yelled into the mess of bodies and jutsu. “What is this?”

Sure enough, there she was. She was taller than he remembered, as she always was, but her chakra was much the same as it had always been. Bitter, dejected, resigned. And angry. Always angry. Unlike his, however, her anger did not threaten to boil over. No, instead it steeped her in cold, slowly freezing her chakra over like a creeping frost.

Not that it showed.

“What do you want, Zuzu?” Her tone was biting and he could all but picture the sneer on her face. “I’m busy.”

Izuna snorted, amusement rolling off him in waves. “Doing what? Avoiding the unfinished print over there? Use your sharingan and figure this out for me.”

Tobirama’s clones had waited, just as he had, but they burst into action at the mention of the sharingan. He knew how powerful Kyou’s dojutsu was, had seen it used on his father when she was only half her current age. He’d meant what he said to her, all those years ago, though his exact words escaped his memory. No one knew much of anything about the sharingan. It’s exact abilities and limitations seemed to vary from user to user, with each encounter posing an unknown threat.

At the very least, he knew Kyou meant him no harm.

He’d felt her rage before, been paralyzed by it. She turned her face toward him now and simply looked away.

“They’re clones, Zuzu. Seriously, just use your brain.”

Izuna’s chakra swelled with indignation, but Tobirama left him not chance to act on it. His clones dispersed, joining other parts of the battle raging around them as he pushed Izuna back with blow after blow. He knew the other boy could more than hold his own, if granted the opportunity to use a jutsu. Tobirama’s main advantage was his superior size and strength, as well as his suiton’s natural dominance over Izuna’s katon. One fireball, however, and he would lose the edge granted him by close quarters combat.

Kyou left them to their own devices, leaving the range of Tobirama’s vision. Her chakra signature flickered in the back of his mind, though, her exact location always marked. Off to his right somewhere, Hashirama and Madara were clashing in a brilliant display of power. His father was fighting Tajima, the Uchiha Clan leader, with equal vigor and greater vitriol, their chakra signatures tainted by decades of rivalry coming to a head. Itama was somewhere behind him, keeping out of the battle proper as per their father’s orders. He didn’t want anyone to know that two of his sons had inherited the mighty mokuton until they could both wield it properly. His clones were tag teaming a single Uchiha opponent, his chakra so foul he immediately pulled his attention away from it in favor of focusing on his fight with Izuna.

That chakra was familiar. He hated it. It made him sick. It was a writhing mass of loathing and cruel entitlement, though its edges had begun to smooth over the last several years. It was everything his father told him the Uchiha were supposed to be, an enemy that the world would love to see vanquished. A true demon in need of slaying.

He wasn’t sure he was strong enough to fight such an opponent head on, but that was what the clones were for. In theory, they would simply poof back into oblivion once they met their end, transferring valuable knowledge about their foe as they did so, providing Tobirama with the insight to better face the enemy at a later date.

Ah, there they went. One, two, gone.

He stumbled as their memories merged with his own, the different perspectives jarring him out of the rhythm he and Izuna had fallen into. The Uchiha moved to take advantage of this, his blade rushing toward Tobirama’s chest in a downward slash. He dodged, though not as quickly as he would have liked, narrowly avoiding injury only immediately roll into another dodge as a kunai embedded itself deep into the loam where he’d once stood.

He turned, raising his blade with a snarl only to freeze. He could see it. Clearly, every hair and thread in sharp relief, he saw his own death. Dismemberment, really, with his blood splattering on the turned earth, staining his colorless hair red. His teeth sunk into his cheek, dispelling the horrid illusion and throwing him back into a blurred world. Before him stood the source of the foul Uchiha chakra. His clones’ memories told him that this man used a traditional scythe and chain, favoring his left leg ever so slightly and sporting a fully matured sharingan.

“Shuji-san!” Shit, he’d forgotten about Izuna. “What are you doing?”

“Shut up, brat,” _Shuji_ growled, his chakra roiling with malcontent. “This freak started it.”

Izuna’s chakra was conflicted, though Tobirama couldn’t understand why. For a moment, he though the other boy would speak again, but Shuji moved before he could. Faster than any opponent he’d encountered before, the adult Uchiha swiped down at him, air whistling as his scythe cut through it. Tobirama dove out of the way, honing his focus on the increasingly violent man before him. He was agitated, something other than the young Senju stirring his chakra into a frenzy. Where his scythe hit the ground, small craters were left in its wake and Tobirama knew without a doubt that one hit would be all it took to end his life.

What were his clones thinking, challenging him?

A quick recall showed it was his own plan to gather information for a later take down. Tch.

This was no time to wallow on past idiocy, though. He rolled again, his armor digging into his body as he scrambled to his feet just in time to dodge another blow, this time from the deadly weight at the end of the chain attached to the scythe.

There was no way. He couldn’t possibly defeat such a foe. He was too young, too weak, too inexperienced to take on such a terrifying enemy. He’d fought other Uchiha adults over the years—one particular experience stood out in his memory and he doubted it would ever fade, no matter how fervently Kyou demanded he do so—but none of them fought quite like this, like it was a battle of life or death. It wasn’t. Not by any means. Still, his opponent swung his weapon with wild abandon, chakra swollen with pent up fury. It was like fighting a toddler mid tantrum, his emotions taking command of his body while his mind floundered. Unlike a toddler, however, this man was a trained shinobi with a powerful dojutsu at his disposal. He could have ended Tobirama’s life on three separate occasion—that he’d noticed—and yet. He was toying with him, the vile joy floating on the surface of his chakra telling the Senju boy all he needed to know about the situation.

He was going to die.

It was a certainty. He had no time to lament it. It simply was. But he could maybe add to it. If he swung his sword at the right angle, and if this Shuji moved the way he expected him to, then he might be able to inflict enough damage that another of his Clan would then be able to capitalize on and hopefully bring the menace down.

It was a terrifying prospect. He was only twelve years old. Kawarama had died at six, along with so many others, Itama almost among their number. He was twice his brother’s age, but he would be joining him, soon. Was it too much to wish he had more time?

He turned, his muscles straining as he pushed himself to move at speeds he’d never before achieved. He had to be fast enough. This was the last thing he’d ever do for his Clan. ~~And he doubted anyone would remember it.~~

“No don’t!”

The haze which clouded his opponent’s chakra was gone, bursting like a bubble to reveal panic and concern. The Uchiha immediately moved to withdraw, pulling back what would most certainly have been a killing blow as he turned away from Tobirama, who made no such motions, his momentum propelling the long blade in his hand forward.

“Kyou?”

Tobirama’s sword cut through the delicate flesh of his neck, red blood spilling out over his red armor, red eyes turning to look incredulously at the child who slew him. He could feel the chakra signatures of everyone around him light up with shock and disbelief, but he stood still, panting as he stared at the fading chakra of the man in front of him. Those red eyes—the only part of him he could see clearly—were rolling in a pale face, searching for something.

Or someone.

“Kyou.” His voice was little more than a gurgle, but Tobirama could still make out the girl’s name, clear as day. “Kyou.”

She was standing only an arm’s length away, watching as the man bled out. He called her name, raising a hand toward her before collapsing onto his face, red, red blood soaking the ground beneath Tobirama’s feet. She stayed where she was, red, red eyes glowing with the power of the sharingan. Those eyes turned to him, burning him with the intensity of the emotion projected by her chakra, the wrongness of it stinging him.

In an instant the stillness was broken, Madara himself stepping in front of Kyou. Izuna was also there, sticking close to his younger cousin as Hashirama took a stand in front of Tobirama, staring his one time friend down with an almost foreign solemnity. Their fathers weren’t far behind, Tajima crouching down beside the dead man.

Butsuma reached out with a hand, pushing Hashirama behind him. “Tajima.”

The Uchiha leader’s chakra was a nauseating mix of outrage and grim satisfaction. Whoever this Shuji was, he wasn’t well liked, but the reactions of the adults around him made it clear he was important.

“Let’s end this here, Butsuma,” Tajima said sternly, his Clan disengaging as a single mass at his words. “I must return my cousin to his mother. Kyou,” he turned to the girl, his chakra radiating pity for only the shortest of seconds. “Let’s take your father home.”

Ah. Her father. That explained a few things. Kyou was in line to be Clan heir, so her father had to be a high-ranking man among the Uchiha. Certainly a member of the head family, at least. Suddenly, the full weight of his actions fell upon his mind. He’d killed a member of the Uchiha head family, had slit his throat to such a degree he died in less than a minute, as his child watched.

The child who distracted her father and made his death possible, in all likelihood saving Tobirama’s life in the process.

The child whose reaction to her father’s death was mind numbing euphoria.

The Uchiha left the clearing in a great wave of movement, their dead retrieved in silence. Butsuma placed a hand on Tobirama’s head, his chakra buoyant with pride.

“Excellent work, son. That one has always been a menace.”

Tobirama didn’t recoil, but it was a close thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midori = 美鳥 = pretty bird, lol. I was inspired to give Tobirama vultures as his summons by a tumblr post I can't find no matter how hard I try! If you know which one it is, let me know!  
> The research I did into the symbolism of vultures says they represent:
> 
>   * the mind, thoughts, and intelligence
> 

>   * patience and careful planning
> 

>   * out of the box thinking
> 

>   * protective of children/strong parental instincts
> 

>   * military strategy (as symbols of the Roman Gods Jupiter and Mars)
> 

>   * renewal/rebirth (as eaters of death)
> 

> 
> I thought these themes suited Tobi really well! Tell me what you think! 
> 
> Midori is a monk vulture, one of the largest vultures in the world! Because of this, I made the summons version absolutely _massive _. She is 8ft (~2.5m) tall with a wingspan of 20ft (~6m)! She's really honkin' big! The monk vulture is a solitary animal that sometimes travels in mated pairs, so Midori is the only one who will answer Tobi when he calls. ♡( ◡‿◡ ) I considered giving him something else, like orcas or swordfish or something, but that Tumblr post would not leave me.__
> 
> __I chose to make Tobirama visually impaired after seeing[this lovely art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16509269) by [dahtwitchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dahtwitchi/pseuds/dahtwitchi), and I did some research into the effects of albinism on vision. So, Tobirama can see, but it's super blurry (low acuity) and his depth perception would probably be a little off. He makes up for this using his chakra sensing, though it still makes it hard for him to communicate using visual cues. If anyone has any advice on how to handle this kind of disability (my vision is pretty bad, but I have the magic of glasses and zoom on my side {seriously, my microsoft word is zoomed to 230%} so I probably can't capture the nuances of that sort of limitation) please leave a comment! I will absolutely read it and take it into account!_ _
> 
> __One last thing and then I'm done! I swear! I was really divided when it came to whether or not Tobi should be able to tell that Kyou's a girl. The idea that something like _chakra _could reveal someone's biological sex threatened to turn my worldbuilding into a hostile environment for trans characters, and I am not about that life! So! I have decided (and this is very meta of me, I realize that) to make it so your chakra resonates with your chosen gender! Because Kyou identifies as female, Tobi reads her as female, end of story. I hope that clears up any confusion or questions his sensing might have raised. I thought long and hard about this, so please feel free to ask me for further clarification if you need it!___ _
> 
> ____J-just one more, I promise. I did ask on the[Shinobi Isekai Tumblr](https://shinobi-isekai.tumblr.com/) whose POV Shuji's death should be written in, but no one answered me so I left it as Tobirama. I'm telling y'all, your input matters, but only if I get it! :(_ _ _ _


	11. Soldier Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part 1/2 of a double update.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter _was _going to be obscenely long. I had it in my brain that I was going to cover a year's worth of time in one go, like all the other serious fic writers do, but I can't~. ｡･ﾟﾟ*( >д<)*ﾟﾟ･｡ I am a weak woman. I couldn't bring myself to do it! I'm sorry! You get a double update instead. I had so many notes already written for the whole thing, but now that info has to be redistributed. Why did I do this to myself? I should have just posted it in pieces in the first place.__

Satan was dead.

She’d watched the blood pour from his throat, the light fade from his eyes, the slow fall of his face into the mud, capturing every detail with the sharingan he’d given her.

It was glorious. Wondrous, even. It was like everything wrong with the world was suddenly right, a blight on the universe vanquished, the Demon King slain. Did that make Tobirama the hero? He certainly had the coloring for it, if shoujo mangas were anything to go by. They really liked the whole ‘white=purity=good’ trope. Hrm.

“Ah, fuck,” Kyou hissed under her breath, rubbing at her itching eyes with the heels of her palms. They hadn’t stopped burning since the battle’s end, stinging like chlorine and sunscreen in another life. She kept blinking, hoping she’d just got something in them and it wasn’t what her brain was telling her it was. She refused, thank you very much. Ah, but they just wouldn’t. stop. _Itching._

Large hands pulled hers away from her face and she looked up, startled, at Tajima. Her uncle’s expression was grim—even more so than usual—the frown lines cradling the downturned corners of his mouth deeper than she’d ever seen them. He was looking straight into her eyes, his sharingan active as he held her gaze. His hands came up to cup her face, thumbs rubbing at something warm and wet as his expression changed to one she’d only seen him direct at Madara. She valiantly resisted the urge to pull her head out of his grasp, tamping the rising panic in her chest down to manageable levels.

“I’m sorry, Kyou,” her Clan head said softly. “You shouldn’t have had to see that.”

No. She should have. It was awesome. The only downside was having to tell baa-chan. She was not looking forward to that, _at all._

Her eyes stung even more as Tajima stepped away, looking at blood on his hands that had definitely not been there before he touched her. Had Satan’s blood splattered onto her? She didn’t remember, but she _was_ pretty preoccupied with memorizing his death throes. Hmm, she should probably clean up before going to see baa-chan. Losing her son was bad enough, but seeing his blood on her grandchild was worse than necessary.

“Kyou,” Tajima said, pulling her from her musings. It was weird. Her uncle never spoke to her longer than necessary, always saying his piece and moving on. That…might have been Satan’s fault though. With him gone— _fuck yeah!_ —her position in the Clan was a lot less stable. She was inclined to think of this as a good thing, since she might finally be able to live her life in peace. “How do your eyes feel?”

Itchy as fuck. “They’re fine, Tajima-sama.”

He didn’t look convinced, one thick brow rising. “Are you sure? This is important, Kyou. You need to be honest with me.”

Fuck. Shit. Son of a bitch.

“They itch,” she heard herself say as the reality she’d been denying the entire way home slapped her in the face. “Really bad.”

Tajima nodded, the bastard. _Fuck_. So much for a normal life. No. Her eyes just had to fucking level up. God _fucking_ damn! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! The entire heavenly _fucking_ host! Gah! She didn’t even _like_ Satan. She was a good girl! Devil worshipping was a no-no! How the fuck did he know, anyway? It wasn’t like she was suddenly swallowing people whole or spitting out black fire! All her eyes did was itch! Was that a power? It fucking _sucked_!

Oblivious to her internal screaming, Tajima placed a hand on her head, smoothing the mussed hair into a semblance of neatness. It was…oddly paternal? Especially coming from the guy who benefitted most from her father’s death—aside from her, of course. She carefully kept her face neutral, a skill she’d developed early on and which received daily reinforcement. Although, with Satan dead she could probably get away with more shit…

“There will be a council meeting once we return,” his tone was grave, instilling even greater fear in Kyou’s bones. “You will be present.”

Yeah, no. “Can it be tomorrow?” She did her best puppy eyes, long honed by use on Madara. “I still need to tell baa-chan.”

He winced, clearly having forgotten about his aunty. Rude. “Yes, of course, Kyou. I will arrange it.”

She bowed a little in thanks, hoping the presumption of grief would let her off the hook for the disrespect. It did—or something did—and Tajima finally left her alone, running up to take his place at the front of the pack. Kyou was normally up front, too, tucked into Satan’s side like a burr. Without him, she was free to take her preferred spot, alone at the back where her asshole cousins were more than happy to leave her.

Madara, unfortunately, was _not_ an asshole.

“I’m sorry, Kyou,” he said softly, draping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a one-sided hug. She accepted the affection easily, glad again for Satan’s timely demise. She didn’t have to reject her family—those who liked her, anyway. Maybe, she might actually be able to make some friends!

Nah.

“It’s fine,” she said, making sure to keep her smile dim as she rubbed at her eyes again. “I’m just worried about baa-chan.” A jolt ran through her as a horrifying realization pulled the high out from under her. “And my mom! Without Satan, I’m the only one getting rations in our house! That’s not enough to feed her!” She turned panic widened eyes up at her cousin—he wasn’t very much taller than her, was he _and dammit that wasn’t important!_ “What do I do?”

The look of anguish on his freckled face told her she had asked the wrong person. Shit. She forgot it was his bitch mother who insisted on starving her out.

“Never mind,” she said hastily, pulling away from his embrace and immediately shivering from the loss of his closeness. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.”

“Kyou—.”

She dashed away from him, chakra boosting her speed until she was beside Izuna. He _wasn’t_ taller than her, a fact he hated and refused to acknowledge. It wasn’t her fault her mom was taller than everyone else in the Clan.

Her mom.

She let her shoulders slump, just a little. It was enough to catch her less sensitive cousin’s attention, though. He slapped her back with a crooked smile.

“Cheer up, Kyou! You don’t have to worry about training with broken ribs anymore!”

Yeah. That’s right! Satan was dead! This was a joyous occasion! Leave it to Izuna to remind her of the whole reason she was happy enough to feel whiplash in the first place.

She smiled at him, a full, gap toothed grin. “Thanks, Zuzu!”

He scowled at the old nickname and she listened with one ear as he launched the customary litany of complaints. He hadn’t minded all that much until he started noticing girls, though. Ah, puberty. She was not looking forward to her turn.

It would certainly make hiding her sex harder. And she _was_ going to keep hiding it. As much as she hated fighting—an opinion that remained despite her dropping sensitivity to it—it was better than being groomed to be the perfect little wife. And a million times better than being groomed to be _Madara’s_ perfect little wife. That’s who she’d be married to, of course. The two branches of the main family would finally be one.

Until Izuna had kids or something, of course. Then, five or six generations down the line, there’d be another Satan vying for the position, never mind that Izuna had never begrudged his brother his position as heir.

Whatever, it didn’t matter because she wasn’t gonna marry Madara. He was the older brother she never wanted. _~~The only brother she wanted was an hour younger and eight years deader.~~_

The gates of the village came into view and she left Izuna behind, the boy not even pausing in his rant. Satan’s bloody corpse was being carried by one of his friends and she tugged at his clothing to get his attention.

“I’m gonna go tell baa-chan,” she said when he turned weary dark eyes on her, barely resisting the urge to scratch at her own. “Please don’t bring him in until I do.”

He nodded solemnly, adjusting her father’s weight on his back. She felt a little bad, then. Satan wasn’t completely unloved by the people in his life, just by her. If this guy, little more than a random acquaintance, looked so sad, then baa-chan.

She wasn’t looking forward to it, _at all_.

She rushed ahead of the group, ignoring the people waiting for their family members as she headed toward the glorified one room shack which had housed her for her whole life. Her grandmother was always there, waiting for her and Satan to come home. She would probably be cooking something, donating her own scant rations to provide enough for everyone in their little family. Kyou paused in front of the door, hand poised to knock. Shit. She’d forgotten to wash her face. She had no idea if the blood Tajima had wiped away was Satan’s or not, but it was a bad look, regardless.

“Don’t touch me!” Kyou froze at the sound of an unfamiliar voice in her home. “Stay away!”

There was the sound of something breaking and Kyou shoved the door open with more force than necessary, hurtling through the doorway.

“Baa-chan,” she exclaimed, searching the old woman for injuries where she stood beside the one bed. “What’s going on?”

Her grandmother didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Kyou’s eyes darted from her to her mother, halting there as she struggled to understand what she was seeing. Her mother’s face, which had worn no expression but empty calm for as long as she could remember, was warped with rage, dark brows furrowed over a snarl which scrunched up her long, hooked nose, baring straight somewhat yellowed teeth in the most base display of anger a human could make.

Kyou felt her eyes return to their dormant state, the tension leaving her body in a weakening flood. “Kaa…chan…?”

The woman turned her brown eyes onto her daughter, expression softening fractionally. Kyou didn’t wait for a response, a smile spreading across her face of its own accord as joy buoyed up from her center and filled her to brim, threatening to spill out from her every pore.

“Kaa-chan!” She launched herself into the bed, wrapping her arms around the frail woman’s waist. “Oh my god, kaa-chan! You’re awake! You’re ok! I can’t believe it! How—?” She cut herself off. Oh, she knew _exactly_ how. “That _snake_! I knew it! I knew he did something to you! And now that he’s dead you’re—!” She shut her mouth so hard her teeth clacked. That…was not how she was supposed to say that.

She hesitated before turning to look over her shoulder at her grandmother. The old woman’s aged face was sadder than Kyou had ever seen it, tears welling up in her rheumy eyes, but she didn’t look surprised. Sure, with her mother awake, it wasn’t hard to guess—wait.

She pulled away from her mother, sitting up on the bed so she was eye to eye with her grandmother. “Baa-chan, did you _know_? Did-did you know he did this to her?”

The elder Uchiha closed her eyes, a single tear rolling down her face and getting lost in the wrinkles. Her lack of response was answer enough.

“You didn’t _stop_ him?” Kyou asked, incredulous. “You’re the only person who could get that demon to do anything, and you didn’t think, even once, that maybe _enslaving his wife_ was a bad idea?”

Her grandmother said nothing again, but she did turn away. She stepped away from the bed, bending to pick up the shattered remains of a ceramic bowl, bits of rice porridge dripping into the floor. Kyou felt guilt rising in her for hurting the only person who loved her like they should, but she squashed it down in favor of fanning the flames of her outrage. She turned away from the old woman, looking into her mother’s sunken face. She was looking down at Kyou with wide eyes, thin lips parted in surprise.

“Are you ok, kaa-chan?” Kyou reached out with a hand only to pull it back, suddenly aware of how dirty she was, covered in mud, blood, and random bits of grass. “Ah, I’m sorry. I-I’ll go get clean!” There was no saving the sheets. She would have to change those soon or Satan would be—.

Nothing. Satan was dead. He couldn’t do anything.

The sheets would stay dirty! Hah!

“Kyou.”

She looked up at her mother, brain short-circuiting. That was the first time she’d ever said her name.

That smile split Kyou’s face again. “Yes, kaa-chan?”

A terrifyingly slender hand reached out to her, fingers so bony and angular they looked more like talons. Arm shaking with the effort of moving on her own for the first time in who knew how long, she placed her hand on Kyou’s head, mussing the straight black hair so like her own. Long nails, scraped gently against her scalp and Kyou was absolutely certain her face would split in half from the width of her smile.

“Kyou,” her mother said again, voice soft and hoarse from disuse. There was a light in her eyes, something Kyou couldn’t name giving her expression a somewhat manic look. “You’re real.”

Oh. _Oh_. Had Satan…put her in a genjustu? Kyou didn’t know very many, but she knew her father had been considered a true master of the art—for all she never saw him them outside of training. What must that have been like?

“Yeah,” she said, a new hatred for her father taking root in her heart. “I’m real.”

“I thought,” her mother cut herself off, sniffing loudly as tears spilled from her eyes. “I thought you were a dream. Every time you spoke to me, I thought he—.”

Kyou bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “You heard me?” She’d never been sure if she was wasting her breath given her mother’s inability to respond. She was glad, now, that she’d never listened to that voice which told her it was pointless.

“I did.” Her hand slipped from the top of Kyou’s head, the strength gone from her arm. “I heard you.”

Warmth spread through Kyou as she took her mother’s hand in hers, the feeling of her bones just beneath the skin reminding her of all the suffering they’d endured together, even if they weren’t really aware of it.

Her mother’s eyes were beginning to dim and Kyou gently placed her hand down on her lap before standing. “You should rest,” she said seriously. “Your stamina is gonna be low until you regain your strength. Don’t worry,” she held out her thumb in an echo—premonition?—of a legendary Green Beast. “I’ll take care of you!”

Her mother lay back in the bed she’d shared with her daughter and monstrous husband. That was a terror neither of them would ever have to live through, again. Her eyes closed and Kyou listened as her breathing evened out. As soon as she was sure she was asleep, Kyou heaved a massive sigh.

Her day had been…something. A rollercoaster for sure. So many highs and lows messing with her brain, it was hard to decide just how she actually felt. She turned around and saw two bowls of plain rice porridge on the stone edge of the small, sunken hearth, the coals already dying. She hadn’t even noticed her grandmother leaving.

Again, she felt bad for how she’d treated the old woman, but she couldn’t bring herself to abandon her anger, either. She knew her grandmother loved her, that Satan was a horrible man who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt even his mother in his pursuit of power. Still, was it too much to ask for just a token resistance? Just a little bit, like when she taught Kyou flower arranging under the guise of helping her get over her aversion to Tobirama—which was entirely _too_ successful, in her opinion; the brat was _not_ as cute as her brain was trying to convince her he was, she refused to accept it. Her grandmother had subverted her father’s authority in other ways, too, teaching her embroidery while pretending it was just mending socks and similar ‘feminin’ skills. If she could do that much for Kyou, then why did she do nothing for her mother?

Maybe she had, Kyou mused as she removed her armor, struggling with some of the harder knots without her father’s help. Maybe she did something, but Kyou hadn’t been born yet. Maybe, Satan had hurt her for trying.

She’d let her emotions get the best of her and she’d hurt her baa-chan because of it. Shit. She’d have to say sorry.

Tossing her sandals aside in a messy heap Satan never would have tolerated, she stripped down to her loin cloth and pulled on a new(ish) kimono. This one was one of Madara’s, since Izuna’s no longer fit her. She crawled under the threadbare blanket, leaving her bloody clothing and armor strewn about the one room in a way that likely had Satan’s ghost frothing in rage. She took that petty joy and held it close to her heart as she snuggled in close to her mother as she did every night, this time secure in the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, she’d get snuggled back.

* * *

The next morning, Kyou woke up cold. She shivered, curling in on herself as she sought Satan’s warmth. She reached out with a hand only to find empty space and cursed the man for leaving without waking her up. At least, if she was awake, she was moving and the cold left her quicker. She rolled over, burrowing into her mother’s side, instead. She’d see how Satan liked it when she was still in bed when he came back!

Her mother’s body moved away from her, leaving her bereft.

What. Kyou opened her eyes, the light from the one window filtering through the blanket blinding her before her eyes adjusted. It wasn’t time for baa-chan to feed her mother, yet, was it? If it was, Satan had let her sleep in a really long time. Was there something going on? He didn’t normally let her miss out on training, though.

She sat up, the blanket pooling around her as she rubbed at her itchy eyes, dry blood flaking off her skin. She yawned, long and loud.

“Good morning, Kyou.”

Yawn ruined, she stared wide eyed at her mother, the tall, slender woman moving to stand on her own.

Oh, yeah!

All the joy of last night’s discovery—and Satan’s wondrous departure to the afterlife—came rushing back to her. “Kaa-chan!”

Her mother spared her a smile as she struggled to her feet using the wall for support. She was so, so thin. It was painful to watch her, but Kyou was still overjoyed to see her moving. She jumped out of bed, tripping over a discarded pauldron. Ah, so that was why Satan was so anal about cleaning up. Whoops.

Kyou righted herself quickly, flipping her long hair out of her face as she ran over to the hearth. Last night’s porridge was still there, and she scowled. She really should have cleaned. She picked up the two crusty bowls and set them aside for later. Sitting on a hook over the cold ashes was an entire pot of the stuff, but it was still good. It just needed to be reheated. Kyou pulled out two smallish logs from the pitiful pile of firewood beside the door. She would have to cut some more, soon. The fire was easy to get going, and she turned to her mother with a wide smile. The woman had made her way to the foot of the bed, sitting there as she often did when Kyou or her grandmother did her hair. She was watching her daughter, that inscrutable look in her eyes again. She seemed to notice Kyou was waiting for something, because she smiled.

“Well, done, Kyou.”

Ah, that praise sent another flush of warmth through her. She dug up another cleanish bowl, ladling gloopy, lukewarm porridge into it. She pulled a spoon from last night’s serving and presented it to her mother.

“Here! You need to eat so you can get strong!”

She pressed the bowl into shaky hands. It was a little strange. Her mother never had such difficulty while under Satan’s control. She was able to walk and eat on her own just fine despite the state of her body. Had the jutsu given her extra strength? Or was doing it on her own harder?

A knock on the door broke her from her musings. She bounced to her feet and peeked out the window and blanched at who she saw there.

“I might have to go,” she told her mother sadly. “But I’ll come back! I promise!”

Her mother said nothing, only watched with dark eyes as she opened the door on a grim faced Tajima.

“Kyou,” her uncle said. “The council is meeting, now. You need to be there.” He looked up, eyes widening in surprise at the sight of her mother. “Hitomi-san. You’re…awake?”

Kyou turned around to look at her mother, taking in the sour expression twisting her face. “Tajima-sama. It has been too long.”

Her mother’s voice was soft, barely even audible, but Tajima looked very uncomfortable. He actually looked away, shifting his weight like Madara sometimes did. “Yes. It…has… Kyou has been summoned to a council meeting. I will…bring him back…?”

Her mother stared hard at Tajima, her expression still warped by distaste. She let him squirm for a solid moment before nodding.

“Of course, Tajima-sama.”

Kyou waved to her mother, the movement decidedly too happy, if the look her uncle gave her was any indication.

Right. Her father was dead. She watched it happen. She was supposed to be sad.

Oops.

The council hall was filled with all the elders, the old geezers sitting on their cushions like they were thrones. The looks on their faces set up a clear division between them, an even split of smiles and frowns worn by those who supported her position as Clan heir and those who opposed it, respectively. Junsuke-jii-sama looked a little conflicted, though he smiled when he saw her.

“Elders,” Tajima began, kneeling before them even as he motioned for Kyou to remain standing. “I trust you all received my message.”

One of the elders sniffed, squinting down a crooked nose at Kyou. “Indeed. If what you say is true, Tajima-kun, we will be left with few options. You realize this, yes?”

Her uncle bowed his head, a rare sight. “I do. Kyou,” he turned to her with the most serious expression she’d ever seen him wear. “Please, activate your sharingan.”

Oh. _Oh_. So, that’s what he was after. Kyou did as she was told, the persistent itching in her eyes escalating to outright pain. She hissed, rubbing at them with closed fists. It was like a thousand needles were being stabbed into her eyes, even from within her skull. Her _optic nerve_ was burning, eating holes out of her brain.

Large hands took hold of her head, indistinct voices raising all around her. She couldn’t understand what they were saying, the pain in her face occupying every functional neuron, the numbers of which were dropping by the second. Her brain was turning to liquid. Had to be. She could feel it spilling out her eyes and ears and nose and mouth and—.

“Kyou! Can you hear me? Kyou?”

Blood. Blood on snow. Blood on the hearth. Blood she spilled, dripping from her blade. Blood splattered on the walls, a stain that still hasn’t come out. Blood on her hands, dripping onto tatami mats. Blood on Tobirama’s armor, redder than his eyes. A baby crying, voice cut short. Her name, a breathy gurgle spat from dying lips.

Too much. It was too much. Every horrible thing her sharingan had ever recorded was playing in perfect clarity, layering on top of each other in a riotous cacophony which made set her brain on fire from having to process it all. No. Nonononononononono. She specifically did everything she could not to dwell on those memories. The last time she let them overtake her she’d nearly killed Izuna. She had to stop it! What was it grandmother said? Breathe and count? How could she count when she couldn’t remember the numbers?

In a single moment, it wasn’t an issue anymore. Well, it was, but it was a distant one. The panic and fear that had risen up with the 10k HD memories that were still playing in her mind were still there, just…behind a wall. A two-way mirror, maybe? They were present, but no longer had the power to interrupt her thoughts. She could count, the numbers spilling from her lips as she forced her breathing into a set pattern. Vaguely, she was aware something was different. The memories she so painstakingly tamped down into oblivion were playing right before her eyes and…she wasn’t freaking out? Ok, she _was_ , but _she_ wasn’t. _She_ was untethered from the fear and revulsion those memories always inspired, the emotions rolling off her figurative back like equally figurative raindrops. _She_ was watching it all unfold with a calm she’d never ever ever _ever_ managed to achieve, background processes always keeping her mind busy even as she tried her hardest to concentrate. _~~Of all the afflictions to survive being isekaid, it just had to be her ADHD.~~_

That wasn’t an issue, now. She was aware of the people crowding her, of her uncle’s hands trying to pull hers away from her face, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel the anger she knew it would otherwise inspire. She just…let them do it. She had no reason not to, after all. Why not let them look at her face as she looked at her hands and the blood dripping from them and _that wasn’t there before, how strange—._

“Kyou.” She looked up at her uncle, the concerned look on his face sparking distant, almost imperceptible confusion. “Kyou, I need you to deactivate your sharingan. Can you do that for me?”

Well, of course she could. An odd question, to be sure, but she couldn’t find it in her to acknowledge the reaction she could feel just beyond her sphere of awareness. Her chakra rose as she commanded it, filling the space behind her eyes and—.

_Pinche mierda!_

The forcefield keeping her emotions at bay shattered, the entire jumbled mess flooding into her consciousness and out every orifice in her head, her right eye pulsing with unnatural heat. Tears welled up and stung both her eyes, washing away the blood that had gathered there as she cried. It was kind of embarrassing, really. All her life, she’d done everything in her meager power to avoid acting like a child—unless it suited her to do so, of course—but she couldn’t help it. There were too many emotions in her— _ ~~not so~~_ —itty bitty body, all of them horrible and evil and desperately wanting out!

A conversation with an actual child, faded by time and willful erasure, rose in her mind.

They were chemicals. Chemicals poisoning her brain. She had to let them out or they would make her sick!

So, she cried, vision cloudy and distorted from the sheer force of her tears. Her breath came in hiccoughing gasps, hurting her throat as she buried her face in someone’s chest, their hands stroking her hair as she wiped her nose on their clothes. They were speaking, voice reverberating through them both as they spat angry words. She could probably understand them, if she tried, but she didn’t want to.

The universe didn’t give two shits about what she wanted. Never had. Alas.

“Kyou.”

Her accursed name refused to be denied, forcing her back into proper awareness. She looked up at the person holding her, recognizing the aged face as Junsuke-jii-sama’s. He looked older than she’d ever seen him, his wrinkled deeper and his eyes cloudier. Hands still strong and dexterous enough to hold a sword and throw senbon with pinpoint accuracy shook as they pushed her hair from her face, wiping at the blood which caked it.

“Kyou,” he said again, voice almost a whisper. “Are you alright? Can you tell me what happened?”

She could, yes, but did she want to? He’d posed it as a question and he was one of the few people she knew who might actually take no for an answer. He was practically her grandpa, after all. Still, it was probably better to get it all over with while everyone was in one place. That way, she could go home, cry to her baa-chan and snuggle her mom!

Wow, the day really had started off so well, huh? Nothing gold can stay.

She pushed herself back from the elder’s chest, wiping at her nose with her sleeve and giving the noxious mixture of blood and snot a disgusted glare. She’d have to wash that out, herself, or risk giving baa-chan a heart attack.

“I don’t know,” she said softly, her words interrupted by a shuddering inhale. “It hurt, jii-chan. It hurt _a lot._ ” That the old man didn’t scold her for calling him -chan said a lot about how serious their circumstances were, but she couldn’t help the tiny swell of triumph that came with it—in fact, she reveled in it, clinging to that emotion like an anchor in the wake of the storm of nothingness that had assailed her.

“Kyou,” he said again, his tone even softer this time. “I’m sorry you hurt yourself and I promise we won’t ask you to do it again.” He said that last bit to someone over her shoulder, the words sharp and biting. “But we need to know what happened. Please, Kyou.”

“I really don’t know,” she said with a whine, sniffling pitifully as she rubbed at her eyes again, the echoes of searing pain still lingering there. “I-I was afraid! I saw everything, all my memories, at the same time! It was too much, jii-chan, and it hurt! My brain was on fire! And then,” she looked at her hands, blood and tears and mucus clinging to her fingers. “Then there was nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Junsuke glared at whoever spoke, placing a hand on Kyou’s head to keep her from turning to look at them. He looked at her with gentle eyes and for the first time Kyou wondered if he actually cared about _her_ and not her potential status as Clan heir— _and whether that would change if he knew the truth._

“Can you explain, Kyou?” He asked softly. “We don’t understand.”

Neither did she. “I don’t know…it was like there was a wall between me and my feelings. They were there and I knew they were there, but I couldn’t feel them until after I turned off my eyes.”

The people around them began murmuring among themselves, but Junsuke kept his whole attention on Kyou, a small, encouraging smile deepening the lines on his face. “Really? That must have been scary.”

She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t, but I knew it should be. I knew I was supposed to be scared, but it was…far away…,” the more she described it, the more it sounded familiar, like she’d heard the words before, but not in her voice. Vague, shadowy memories of another man, skin darker than hers was now, eyes concerned as his mouth smiled, rose up in her mind, traveling across an entire world to remind her of things she never should have forgotten.

Dissociation.

It was one of the things she went to doctors for, in the before times. Before she was Kyou. When her father’s name was Antonio, not Shuji, and he loved her like a normal person loves things. She wasn’t Julia, anymore, but it seemed her soul wasn’t the only thing which could slip through the veils between worlds or whatever they were. Honestly, given how everything else in this world operated, she shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was to see her past traumas and afflictions manifesting themselves as freaky, completely unwanted powers of darkness.

At least, she could turn it off, this time.

“Kairi.” The word slipped through gritted teeth, leaving a sour taste in its wake. “It’s called Kairi.” How the fuck she knew that was anyone’s guess. Did every Uchiha just magically know their Mangekyou’s name, or what? It certainly made since, considering both Kakashi and Obito called theirs Kamui despite never interacting after splitting up the first time. Wait, but Kakashi wasn’t an Uchiha…Did…did the sharingan tell people its name!? Were her eyes… _sentient?!?_

Junsuke certainly didn’t seem surprised by her announcement. He nodded his head, not at all concerned about the eight year old spouting wisdom sourced from her _eyes_. “I see. Kairi. That is a good name.”

_WAS IT?!? WAS IT THOUGH?!? WAS IT JUNSUKE?_

Wait. Wasn’t Madara supposed to be the first one to awaken the damned thing? Why the heck were these old guys sitting around nodding their heads like this was a perfectly normal occurrence? Had…Had Kishimoto… _lied?_ Could a god even lie about the world they created? What the fuck was going on?

Sure, it wasn’t like she was all that invested in preserving canon, anyway, but this was some serious AU shit. Maybe, she was only salty about it because it wasn’t something she did. Hrm.

She looked up at Junsuke, sniffing loudly as she widened her eyes for maximum effect. “Can I go home, now? Kaa-chan woke up.”

That opened an entirely new can of worms, if the startled gasps and Junsuke’s comically wide eyes were anything to go by.

“Ah, yes.” That was Tajima, she was sure of it. “I was going to bring that up after assessing Kyou’s sharingan. Hitomi-san was awake and moving on her own when I went to pick him up.”

“This is...troubling news.” Junsuke didn’t seem to realize how weird that was to say with Kyou in his arms. “If Kyou’s mother is now able to care for him, then he cannot join your household, Tajima-kun.”

Excusez-moi?

Junsuke didn’t try to stop her as she turned, this time, and she looked, wide eyed, at her uncle. He was stern as always, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the elders, most of whom had abandoned their cushions to crowd around her during her episode. They looked seriously back. It was one of those silent conversations, she was sure, and one she couldn’t understand.

“I can’t stay with kaa-chan?”

Her words, carefully pitched with plenty of genuine emotion, earned her all of their attention but she kept hers on her uncle. She knew exactly what the asshole was up to. Her father was dead, but she was still around. Under normal circumstances, she was sure he would have just arranged for her to die during one of the many upcoming battles of the campaign season. However, with her eyes straight up _naming themselves_ , he was stuck balancing the good of the Clan and his own gain. He was a bad uncle, to be sure, but he was a good(ish) leader, so killing her when she had a shiny new power to use to the Uchiha’s benefit was a pretty blatant waste of resources. Had her mother not woken up when she had—thanks again, Tobirama—then her uncle would have been perfectly justified in taking custody, given that she was technically a member of the head family and he had children around her age.

Her mother _was_ awake, though, and she wasn’t about to let her asshole uncle take away her chance to get to know the woman who’d brought her into this strange, new world.

Tajima, to his credit, didn’t even try to argue. “No, Kyou, you can stay with your mother. It’s fine.”

“So, I can go home, now?”

Her uncle pinched the bridge of his nose and waved her off, likely regretting even calling the meeting to begin with. “Yes, yes. Tell Hitomi-san that Atsuko will be by to speak with her, later.”

Fuck. Shit. Son of a bitch.

The only person who hated Kyou more than Tajima was his wife. The woman seemed to take personal offense to Kyou’s existence, seizing every opportunity to make her life harder than necessary. She could only imagine what she might say to her mother.

“I will,” she said, bowing her head as she left Junsuke’s embrace. “Thank you, Tajima-sama, elders.”

Kyou ran from the room, not the slightest bit concerned about decorum. She had to get out of there. Out of the village. Maybe out of this world, while she was at it. Somewhere human nonsense couldn’t fuck her up any more than it already had. No one tried to stop her as she jumped over the walls surrounding the village, dashing into the forest with abandon. She could feel her emotions welling up inside her, again, and she knew she would start crying again, soon. It was so weird. Like, now that she’d been without them for all of _ten seconds_ they were going out of their way to make sure she felt them. Her face was still icky from the last round of crying and she wasn’t looking forward to adding another layer of filth. So, when the trees thinned out enough to reveal the sparkle of sunlight on water, she dove headfirst into the pond.

In retrospect, that was probably a bad idea, given how shallow it was. She could see clearly see the sky as she settled on its mossy bottom, disturbing all sorts of things which skittered away to safety. She would definitely need to wash her clothes, after this, _and_ herself, but it was worth it for the way the water filled her ears, shutting out the world above as she focused on using her chakra to keep her blood oxygenated while holding her breath. If that was what she was even doing. Chakra was so weird, she’d long ago stopped trying to assign any scientific realities to it. For all she knew, it was actually making her body temporarily anaerobic, so she didn’t need oxygen at all. Who cared? It was magic!

Magic with a time limit.

She surged upward, breaking the water’s surface with a gasp. She was more than tall enough to stand in the pond, the water only coming up to her chest, and she longed for a deeper water source. Alas, there were none close enough to the village to be a viable training ground. Besides, the pond had a lot of happy memories associated with it. It’d be a shame to abandon it.

She scooped up some water and splashed it onto her face, scrubbing hard at the yuckiness stuck there. The water dripped red and she scowled.

“What happened? Why are you bleeding?”

Kyou looked up as Warai stepped out onto the water, wide nose sniffing her up and down as he checked her for injuries.

“Warai-san,” she said, a wide smile splitting her face. “Guess what! Satan’s dead!”

The hyena cocked his head, black ears twitching. “Really? That’s wonderful news, cub.”

She nodded emphatically. “I know! And guess what else! My mom woke up!”

The big animal sat on the water’s surface, looking down at her with what she’d come to recognize as a smile. “That is even better news! What curious timing.”

“Yeah, I’m, llike, a bazillon percent sure he’s the reason she was out of it this whole time. It would make sense, since she woke up, like, the instant he died.” She coated her hands in chakra, pushing herself up and out of the water so she stood before her sensei. “All the more reason to be glad he’s gone, right?”

Warai chuffed in amusement, dark eyes bright as he continued sniffing her up and down. “Indeed, cub, but that doesn’t explain why you’re bleeding.”

Ugh. She didn’t want to think about it. Already, her subconscious was hard at work compartmentalizing the experience, the terror and pain she’d felt stored away in neat little boxes stored on the highest of shelves in the hopes she’d never get tall enough to reach them.

“My sharingan leveled up,” she said simply, momentarily forgetting that game terminology meant nothing to her summons—or anyone in a video-gameless world, curse its lack of technology. “I got a new ability,” she amended. “The bleeding is a side effect of the activation.”

The hyena said nothing, but he sniffed sharply in disdain as he turned away from her and returned to his spot on the shore.

“Will this new ability interfere in your training?”

Kyou rolled her eyes at his question. Training, training, training. That was all he ever talked about. After so many years as her sensei, he might have developed a hobby or something, but no. That laser focus was good for her, she knew, but it did get a bit boring. “Why would it? It’s just another spooky power for my spooky eyes. Nothing special.”

Except it was and she just didn’t want to think about it. Objectively speaking, being able to separate herself from her emotions was probably a dank ass power. Maybe, if she wasn’t…like she was, then it wouldn’t bother her so much. The memories of her other father calmly and carefully explaining what dissociation was and why she needed to see doctors for it made it impossible to like this _Kairi_ , though. As helpful as it might be to just stop feeling whenever she wanted, she wasn’t so naïve as to think it wasn’t without its consequences. People felt emotions for a reason, after all. Besides, what was the point in turning them off if she was just going to feel them all _even more_ after turning them back on? It didn’t make any sense.

…

“Fuck,” she hissed, kicking at the water and sending angry ripples across the pond’s surface. “ _Fuck._ ”

She knew the perfect application for her stupid no feely eyes. Satan was probably turning in his grave, the sick fuck. He would have totally encouraged—read forced—her to use it in battle, where her emotions and personal reservations made it impossible for her to fight like the other kids in the Clan, values of a bygone world still ingrained in her mind. If she could, just, flip a switch and be good to go, that would change a lot of things. Maybe everything.

She still didn’t want to kill anyone, though. It was getting harder to argue her way out of it whenever Warai raised the subject. She knew she would have to kill again. A new batch of babies was getting ready to join the fray and, while she was far from close with any of them, she wasn’t about to just stand by as they were murdered. She would have to fight. Properly. End lives. If she could do it without actively agonizing over every little decision as she made them, then she might be able to save a few kids from the horrors of war. To keep their mothers from making the face her baa-chan had made, just last night.

Fuck. She still needed to apologize for being an insensitive bitch. Hrng. She was shit with apologies. Baa-chan more than deserved one, though.

“Hey, Warai-san,” she called out to the snoozing hyena. “Do you think you can help me train my new ability?”

He lifted his head groggily, flicking an ear to dispel a fly. “I don’t see why not. I am your sensei, cub.”

“Cool, just checking.”

If she was going to use Kairi, and she already knew she was, then it would be best to actually train with it. She trusted Warai more than anyone in her Clan, for all he’d never seen a Mangekyou sharingan, before. He wouldn’t try to sabotage her, for one, nor would he push her too far, too fast in the hopes of accomplishing some agenda. He was _her_ sensei. Not a biased councilman.

Content with her plans, she lay on her back, a layer of chakra keeping her above the water as she looked up at the sky. Even as she tried to relax, to put the horrors of the morning behind her, something kept tugging at the back of her mind. Was there something she forgot?

Fuck.

“I need to tell kaa-chan,” she yelled as she bounced to her feet. “I completely forgot! Bye, Warai, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

The hyena didn’t even move as she leapt into the trees above him, already used to her boisterous comings and goings. She rushed back into the village, running through the streets with wild abandon as she hurried home. She could only pray she wasn’t too late.

Of course, she was, because the gods don’t answer prayers, no matter what world they’re in.

The two women kneeling beside the hearth looked at her with wide eyes as she stood in the doorway, panting from exertion. The sound of the door slamming open had startled them both, but it was her mother who recovered herself, first.

“Kyou,” she said with a smile, her tone soft and indulgent. “You’re home.”

“I’m sorry!” Kyou crossed the room and threw herself at her mother’s feet, placing her still damp head in her frail lap. “I’m sorry! I was gonna come and tell you, but I went to visit Warai and I forgot, I’m sorry.”

Her mother raised a hand and Kyou shut her eyes, bracing herself instinctively. Long fingers ran themselves through wet hair, nails scraping gently against her scalp.

“It’s alright, Kyou.” Her mother’s voice was kind and her eyes smiling as she looked up at her. “Nothing happened.”

“What kind of mess did you get into?” Her aunt demanded, interrupting the moment between mother and child with a sniff and an angry scowl. It wasn’t an expression she usually wore. No, she reserved it just for Kyou, leaving her kind Matriarch persona aside whenever she was forced to deal with her wayward niece—er, nephew?

“I was training, Atsuko-sama,” she said, not at all willing to start a fight while her mother was watching. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you.”

Her aunt scoffed, tucking fluffy Uchiha hair behind an ear with clearly practiced grace. “You should be. Honestly, look at this place! It’s worse than a pig sty.” She raised a delicate eyebrow at the armor strewn about the floor, crusted in dry blood.

Shit. She knew she should have cleaned.

“I-I’ll make some tea!” She scrambled to her feet only to be halted by her aunt’s raised hand.

“Don’t bother,” she said dismissively as she stood, giving their entire home a once over with pitying eyes. “The gods know you don’t have enough to spare.”

Hey. She was right, but she shouldn’t say it.

“I was just telling your mother,” she continued as she approached the door, carefully stepping over a discarded gauntlet. “You will received the same amount of rations as you did before. Enough for two people. Your father will be cremated with the other battle dead tonight, and my husband will be saying a few words to honor him. That is all.”

She let herself out. Good riddance.

Kyou turned to her mother. “Is that really all she said? Aunty’s kind of a bitch, so she probably insulted you or something, huh? It’s ok, you can tell me!”

The frail woman smiled at her daughter, reaching out with a shaking hand to pat her on the head.

“It’s alright,” she said softly. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“But you shouldn’t _have_ to,” Kyou insisted, quietly preening under her mother’s touch.

Something in her mother’s face hardened. “Neither should you.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s Satan’s! Everything is Satan’s fault!”

“Sei…ten?”

Ah. Oops. Kyou rubbed at the back of her neck in embarrassment. “Aha, it means Demon King.”

Her mother’s dark eyes widened, expression akin to a starteled deer. Then, she laughed, her hand rising up to cover her face as she shook with mirth. Her whole body was vibrating and Kyou was momentarily worried she might actually hurt herself while laughing. Was that possible?

“Oh, Kyou,” her mother said, voice light with happiness as she wiped actual tears from her eyes. “That’s perfect.”

A flush rose on Kyou’s cheeks, the warmth in her heart foreign to her in this life. Eagerly, she once again threw herself onto her mother’s lap, hiding her face in the coarse fabric of her kimono. Hands buried themselves in her hair, teasing the pin straight locks with gentle pats.

It was only once the warm fuzzies began to fade that she remembered she needed to say sorry to baa-chan. Jeeze, she was really off her game today, huh?

Oh, well, she’d apologize at the funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> This is Kyou's Mangekyou Sharingan. I made it myself (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)  
> 解離 = Kairi= Dissociation
> 
> Because I cut up the obnoxiously long chapter this was going to be, I will be adding more information about the mangekyou in later chapters. Probs the one after next. 
> 
> I was an obnoxiously tall child. Hit my full height of 5'7ish (~170cm) at the tender age of 10. So, Kyou being almost as tall as Madara despite being four years younger isn't...totally weird...right? 
> 
> A reminder that, because Madara's name (斑) means speckled, I gave him freckles! I don't mention them enough, but they're there. 
> 
> This is what a sunken hearth looks like. I spent forever trying to find it's actual name, lol. It's called an irori. :)


	12. Dandelion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part 2/2 of a double update.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Info on Kyou's Mangekyou will come with the next chapter. I'm still writing it, but it will probably be up some time this week. All three chapters were gonna be one thing, but my faint heart trembled at the sight of the word count. So, here you go. Three chapters. :)

She did not apologize at the funeral.

This is largely because she didn’t _go_ to the funeral. Her mother had asked her to stay in with her, since she was still too weak to even cross the house unaided, and, really, how could she say no to that?

So, she didn’t see her baa-chan at the funeral. Hadn’t seen her, in fact, since the day her father died. A week ago. It was horrible. She was horrible. A horrible, evil knot was tying itself around her heart and threatening to kill her for being horrible. Every time she thought about going to see her grandmother, it just got tighter. What would she say? ‘Sorry for calling you out for being an enabler for an abusive asshole even though I know you were probably abused too and have no other frame of reference for normal behavior’? That wouldn’t work. Nu-uh.

So, she said nothing, and the noose around her heart sat there, an ever-present reminder that she made an old lady cry and didn’t even say sorry. And she called Satan evil.

Even Satan had never made his mother cry.

_Fuck~._

It was even harder to feel bad about avoiding her grandmother when doing so made it easier to focus on training. If she was training then she was busy and it’s not her fault if she’s too busy to seek her out, right?

Right?

It was totally her fault. She was the worst grandchild in the history of the universe. _Both_ universes. All of them! Gah!

These horrible emotions were exactly why she was beginning to enjoy training her Mangekyou. She only used it for an hour a day, fully aware of how it would eventually affect her vision if she wasn’t careful. Still, that hour was fast becoming her favorite time of day. It was such a relief to be able to take a step back and analyze her feelings without drowning in them. She was also viscerally aware that she only felt that way because she was able to turn it off and on at will. It’d probably be a very different experience, otherwise.

“You’re getting better at establishing criteria for deactivation,” Warai said as she lay panting on the surface of the pond. “That ability leaves you too vulnerable to outside control. I don’t suggest using it until you have total command of if and when it’s active.”

That was another thing. When she first used Kairi, she only deactivated it when Junsuke-jii asked if she could. The next couple of times, it was Warai’s interference which had her turning it off. At that point, she was ready to abandon the damned thing altogether. No power was worth the price of her autonomy, no matter how much she trusted the people around her—which was not at all, with the notable exceptions of Warai and _maybe_ Madara. It took her longer than she cared to admit to realize that she could set limitations on the stupid, self-naming ability. It was a little embarrassing, though…

“You know I agree with you,” she told her hyena sensei, rolling over onto her stomach and propping her head up on her hands. “I just wish I could train it for longer without going blind.”

“That _is_ an unfortunate drawback. I wonder what causes it. One would think that your eyes would be specially built to withstand the stressors of the sharingan.”

Yeah. You’d think.

“I think it might have something to do with the increased chakra input in the optic nerve,” she said with a sigh. “But I can’t exactly look into my own brain, and I’m not sure who I’d trust to do it for me.”

No one. She’d trust no one. Even the people who bore her no ill will had the unfortunate habit of trusting people who did.

This was where some healing jutsus would come in handy. Why the fuck hadn’t anyone figure them out, yet? It’s not like the Senju had a monopoly on medicine, right? Her baa-chan—oof—used all sorts of salves and tinctures when treating her injuries, so the Uchiha had at least a minimal understanding of the human body. With the sharingan, it seemed obvious to her that they’d have an advantage in treating internal injuries and detecting illnesses like cancer, but no. The whirligig of doom was for combat only.

So were tampons before women got ahold of them.

Looked like a woman would have to repurpose the sharingan, too.

Men, so useless.

“Ne, Warai-san,” she said, pulling herself up into a lotus position, hands reaching for the sky in a spine popping stretch. “Do you know anything about yin or yang chakra?”

The hyena cocked his head, black ears swiveling. “No. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” She’d have to figure it out all on her own, huh? Nothing new. “Have you thought about what I said last time?”

He snorted, laying his massive head on his paws. “You mean using suiton to manipulate the water in plants? I don’t know where you got that idea, but it’s probably impossible. While it may be easier to sense the water inside a plant,” he blew harshly at a leaf, sending it fluttering through the air. “You must remember that a plant is alive, and, as such, has chakra. In order for you to take its water, you would need to override the plant’s will.”

Kyou looked at the algae encrusting the stones at the bottom of the pond. “That doesn’t sound too hard. It’s just a plant, right?”

Warai huffed again, clearly laughing at her. “Try it then. See what it does.”

She pursed her lips at him. He was goading her, fully expecting her to fail. If he thought she couldn’t do it, odds were she probably couldn’t, but she wasn’t gonna let that stop her.

She got up and walked over to the shore and plopped down onto the grass beside him. She found a dandelion, perfectly round with fluffy white seeds and activated her sharingan.

He was right about the water. After training as long as she had to find and control the vapor in the air, it was easy to find the water running through the plant’s stem and root system. He was also right about the chakra, though she had to strain to actually see the delicate network. As expected of a dandelion, its reserves were much smaller than anything she was used to seeing. It had them, though. A chill ran through her, chasing the horrifying realization that, should Kaguya ever truly resurrect, everything would die. Even the dandelions.

Thank god for Naruto.

She reached out with her chakra the way she did when condensing water from the air, calling to the liquid inside the flower. It ignored her, going along its merry way up and down the stem. Rude. She kept trying, tugging and pulling at the water, but it stayed where it was, held in place by cell walls and a vascular system perfected by millions of years of evolution. Plants were older than humans, older than the sharingan, and older than chakra. There were probably dandelions when Kaguya first ended up on the planet, their design unchanged in all the generations since chakra’s introduction.

It was still a dandelion, though. She could snap its stem easily. Babies could do that. So how was it resisting her?

She held out a hand and watched as water answered her call, the floating molecules coming together at the coaxing of her chakra. Liquid pooled in her cupped palm, proof of her mastery over her element. What was the difference between the water in the air and the water in the dandelion? Surely it wasn’t just the meager chakra reserves contained within the plant.

If it was, then her entire plan was moot. She knew Hashirama would start using the mokuton in combat, soon, if he wasn’t already. The powerful kekkei genkai relied on a mix of doton and suiton chakra, and she’d kind of hoped she’d be able to take advantage of the suiton half to render the ability useless. Like Katara and the swamp tribe in Avatar! _~~Honestly, she took way too much inspiration from Avatar~~._

If she couldn’t even assert her will over a flower, how the fuck was she gonna do it to _Hashirama_?

She bit her lip, pride lighting a fire in her heart.

Fuck yeah, she could over-power Hashirama! Fucking pansy ass bitch! He only got anything done because Tobirama was there to support him! Plants ain’t shit without water!

She reached out to the dandelion with renewed vigor. The plant had pores, right? They had some fancy name she forgot the instant she turned in her last biology test ages and ages ago. That’s how they breathed, or some shit. Naturally, the flower had a vested interest in keeping the water inside it. It would die without it, after all.

That was a sacrifice Kyou was willing to make.

The plant had chakra, but so did literally everything. The pond was rife with it, filled with fish, amphibians, and teeny tiny microscopic organisms, but that wasn’t all. The water itself carried chakra, the spiritual energy pulsing just beyond Kyou’s reach. She manipulated water by replacing that residual chakra with her own, turning the water into an extension of her ambient chakra field. There was no way she could do it with the entire pond—not as she was now, anyway—but the little bit inside the dandelion…

That was fair game.

She stared at the dandelion, her eyes stinging as she refused to blink. The force of her concentration had her chakra glowing, a visible tentacle of power reaching out for the innocent flower. It was actually kinda freaky looking and she made a mental note to use it to scare Izuna sometime in the future, when she wasn’t trying to prove the magic talking hyena he was wrong to think she couldn’t use the magic system of an entirely different universe.

Huh.

Separating the water’s chakra signature from the plant’s was harder than she anticipated, given how integrated the water was in the plant’s anatomy. Her head was starting to hurt from the effort, but she managed it. All she had to do next was—.

Wait. The water’s chakra, rather than giving way before hers as it did when she pulled water out of the air, was instead forcing hers back, rushing up through the weird tentacle and turning it an even brighter blue as it went. She watched it approach her, mind blank as she struggled to understand just what exactly was going on and—!

“Cub!”

Her face was pushed harshly into the ground, the dandelion’s fluff filling her nostrils as she choked and gagged. Large paws held her down, claws digging into her back. Warai’s cold nose pressed against her neck, sending chills through her body.

“Ah! What was that for?”

“Cub, listen to me.” She froze, the growl in his voice triggering some instinct she couldn’t name. “You must never attempt that again. If you do, you will die. Do you understand?”

He was serious. Super serious. His chakra was wrapped around her like a protective blanket, impressing upon her the importance of his words.

“Why not? I was just trying to—.”

“I know! I know,” he said again, softer this time though his teeth still scraped against her skin. “I shouldn’t have challenged you like that. I didn’t think you would actually be able to get that far.”

“I don’t understand,” she whined, taking full advantage of his guilt. “What did I do wrong?”

The hyena stepped off of her and she sat up, wiping grass, dirt, and dandelion seeds from her face before turning to face him. Warai was never a particularly cheerful guy, but he’d grown rather…content over their years together. He was more confident than he was when she first signed the summoning contract, more sure of his words and decisions. In one instant, that was all gone. He was hunched over, ears laid back and eyes darting from place to place as though he expected to be attacked.

“That was very dangerous, cub,” he reiterated, voice strained. “It-that-it-you triggered a transfer of nature chakra.”

Oh shit.

Fuck.

Warai launched into a stuttering lecture on nature chakra and its role in senjutsu, but Kyou was too occupied in checking her body over for any sudden onset petrification. She could have _died_.

“This is-I-it’s,” Warai shook his head, looking very small for an animal twice her weight. “I need to return to the Clan. I am not prepared to teach you those techniques.”

What?

“You’re leaving?” Fuck, she sounded like a baby. “B-but, you never leave!”

Warai sighed and wilted even further. He reached out with his long neck and began licking at her hair, teeth gripping the strands gently as he groomed her with a fervor that was almost as uncomfortable as it was welcome.

“I’m sorry, cub,” he said sincerely, rubbing his face against hers and covering her in his musky scent. “This isn’t something I was prepared for when I took up my role as your sensei. It’s my fault for underestimating you. With any luck, I’ll be back soon.”

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his spotted fur.

“Noooo~,” she whined, acting her age for once. “I don’t want you to go. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

He sighed. “Cub, you and I both know that’s not true. You’re not the type to abandon a source of power so easily. I will ask you not to try it while I’m gone, though. Please, just stick to what we’ve already done; maybe, try freezing small bits of water. Just, don’t try that again, please.”

She sniffled miserably, still clinging to her friend and teacher like the child she was. He was going to leave. There was nothing she could do to stop him. Fuck.

“Ok,” she said, pulling back to give the poor animal some space. “But you better come back.”

He laughed, the sound so stereotypically hyena that she couldn’t help but echo it. “Of course, I will. I can’t leave my cub all alone for too long, now can I?”

With that, he poofed out of existence, leaving an empty space in the clearing and her arms. Her hands were cold without his body beneath them and she clenched her fists to dispel the bereft sensation.

“It’s fine,” she said to the empty air in front of her. “I’ll be fine.”

The words sounded hollow even to her.

With a sigh, she turned and trudged her way back to the village, the familiar path feeling entirely too long. Warai had been with her ever since she first summoned him, four years ago. That was half her life! What was she gonna do without him? It wasn’t like the Clan had anything to teach her. She’d memorized every scroll in the archive—courtesy of the sharingan—and had already modified the ones she liked to suit her suiton. The only things she had yet to learn were the ‘womanly arts’ her baa-chan kept trying to force down her throat.

Maybe…she could go learn those? It’d be a good chance to say sorry.

She shoved that idea to the side, shaking her head. No, she couldn’t do that. If anyone found out she was learning ‘girly’ things, that would lead to all sorts of questions she didn’t want answered. Best case scenario, they thought she was gay. Which, kinda, but no. Worst case…

She didn’t want to think about it.

She rubbed at her eyes, the sharingan still active due to her heightened emotions. She still hadn’t broken that habit, huh? Damn. She kept her gaze trained on the ground as she headed toward her house, only looking up to—.

What?

She threw the door open, the poor thing protesting the violence by bouncing right back and smacking her as she ran through the doorway.

“Kaa-chan, you can use chakra?”

Her mother sat frozen on the edge of the bed, her dark eyes locked on her daughter’s. As Kyou watched, the chakra her mother had gathered slipped back into her system, her heart rate rising in panic.

Oh.

“Sorry!” She turned around and covered her eyes. “I’m sorry! I didn’t do it on purpose!” She actively shut down her sharingan, counting down from ten to calm herself down enough for it to be possible. Stupid emotions. Stupid Warai. Stupid sharingan.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes as tears began to fill them. “I’m sorry.”

Something touched her back and she flinched, instinctively reaching for one of the many stones she’d collected over the years and performing the kawarimi. She sat in the far corner of the one room, hiding her face behind her knees.

“I’m sorry.”

That…wasn’t her. She could hear the soft footsteps of someone coming closer, her hackles rising as they came to a stop just in front of her. Soft hands came to rest on either side of her face, forcing her to look up.

“I’m sorry, Kyou,” her mother said sadly, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth, making her already long face even longer. “It’s not your fault, sweeting.”

Stupid. Why did she panic? If anyone had the right to freak out it was her mother, not her.

“I won’t do it again,” she promised weepily. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

Her mother crooned at her, brushing her hair out of her face. “I know, sweeting, I know. It’s alright. I was just…surprised. I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

Ah, right. That.

Her lip quivered of its own volition as she struggled to keep her tears in check. “Warai left. He had to go tell the Clan something.”

“The Clan?”

“Hyena’s have Clans, too. Like dogs have packs.”

“Hmm, I see. Well, he’ll come back, won’t he?”

Kyou sniffled again, leaning into her mother’s gentle pets. He would come back! He had to! He was the only person—er, sentient being? Were those people?—she could really be herself around. The humans in her life all expected her to act like a child, even a mature one, and she was glad to shed that burden when around the Hyena. The summons all knew she was more than just Kyou, after all, with their weird, soul sniffing magic, or whatever.

“He will,” she affirmed. “I’m just gonna miss him. He’s never left me before.”

“Oh, sweeting.” Kyou let her mother wrap her up in a hug, stick thin arms holding her like a vice. She was stronger than she’d been a week ago, progressing much faster than Kyou had expected.

“Kaa-chan,” she began, hesitant. “Are you using chakra to get better? I won’t tell,” she promised hastily as her mother stiffened. “I just…wasn’t expecting it. The Uchiha don’t train their women.”

Her mother pulled back, looking her over with dark eyes the same shape as Kyou’s—sharp and monolidded, unlike the rounded shape sported by most Uchiha. “Is that what Satan told you?”

It was a serious moment. She couldn’t laugh. No matter how funny hearing someone else call him that was.

She still smiled, just a little.

“But, I never see any girls training.”

The older woman shook her head, straight dark hair falling over her fragile shoulder. “Oh, Kyou, that’s because they’re being trained by women.”

Oh. Duh. Wait…was that why baa-chan kept trying to teach her things?

Shit, she was stupid.

Her chagrin must have shown on her face because her mother smiled, the expression tired. “It’s not your fault, sweeting. No one told you.”

She shouldn’t have needed to be told. As much as she reveled in her reputation as a genius, it hurt being reminded just how untrue it was. She was just…educated…somewhat, anyway.

“Can…can you teach me?”

She stared imploringly up at her mother, her patented puppy eyes at full force, but something told her it wouldn’t work. The fondness her mother wore when looking at her went suddenly cold, her eyes shuttered off and distant. Was…was she not allowed to learn? Was it too late, now that she’d trained like a boy? Did that even matter?

Did…did her mother not like her? Was she just pretending?

Panic flared up in her chest as she frantically scanned the woman’s face for any sign of the secret hatred she was suddenly sure she would find. Of course, her mother hated her. She was a constant reminder of all the suffering Satan had put her through. Everyone said she had his face and it was never a compliment. How horrible it must be to look at her and see him, instead.

“What do you want to learn?”

Her mother’s voice was cold, clinical, like her continued favor depended on Kyou’s answer. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears, echoing through her skull as she looked up at the woman—the _kunoichi_ —before, feeling very small despite her abnormal height.

“Do you know anything about yin or yang chakra?”

The words tumbled off her tongue, filling the air between them with even more tension. Her mother’s slender eyes narrowed further.

“Why?”

Sweat, actual sweat, began to drip down her face. What was she supposed to say? What did she want to hear? Why did it matter?

“I-I have an idea,” she began hesitantly, using all her courage to hold her mother’s frigid gaze. “B-but I need help, to see if it’s p-possible. Warai couldn’t teach me, so I thought…,” she trailed off, biting her lip to hold back a flood of fresh tears. Why was she so emotional, these days? Was it the Mangekyou? Was it already fucking with her brain?

Shit. She was in for some serious problems, if so. The Uchiha Crazy Train was not her preferred mode of transportation, thank you very much, muchas gracias.

Her mother’s hands cupped her face, the skin soft but her grip firm. Kyou swallowed, resisting the urge to flee with kawarimi again as her only remaining parent tilted her head, looking for all the world like a bird of prey.

Then, the warmth was back, a smile bringing life back to her face. “Oh, Kyou, _of course_ I’ll teach you.”

What.

The shift from clinical silence to smiling assurance was so instantaneous, Kyou sat there wondering if she’d imagined it. Her mother struggled to her feet, crossing the room to take her seat on the edge of the bed, humming quietly to herself as she moved.

It…it happened, right? She wasn’t crazy? Yet. The terror she felt seemed world away as her mother beckoned her forward with a wave of her hand. There was no way she just…imagined that, right?

No, she hadn’t. She couldn’t have. Was her mother…bipolar?

If she was, that was fine. Lord knew she had a right to a few issues after everything she went through. It wasn’t like she’d hit her, or anything, and, really, she probably hadn’t even meant to make Kyou feel afraid. She was probably just trying to figure out what to teach her!

Experience rationalized, Kyou leapt to her feet and came over to sit beside her mother, eagerly awaiting any wisdom she cared to share.

“I’m surprised you didn’t find anyone to help you,” she was saying, taking one of Kyou’s hands in hers. “The Uchiha Clan are abundant in yin chakra, you know.”

“Really?” She had no idea. None of the scrolls in the archive said anything about it.

“Really. Yin is the element of illusion and imagination and is typically central to any genjutsu. Do you know any genjutsu, Kyou?”

“Of course!”

“Can you cast them without using your…your eyes?”

Ah. No.

She wilted, once again earning a laugh from her mother. “It’s alright, Kyou. I imagine most Uchiha are the same way.”

Hrm.

If what her mother said was true—and she was inclined to believe it was—then she’d been using yin chakra this whole time without even knowing it. Or, did the sharingan not need yin chakra to use genjutsu?

“How do you know when you’re using it?” She watched as her mother trailed the tip of a nail along her palm, shivering as it tickled a nerve. “The only chakra I’ve ever trained is suiton.”

Her mother’s hand stopped. “Yes, that’s a good question. You should try casting genjutsu without-without your eyes. See if you can feel a difference.”

That made sense. But, also,

“Kaa-chan, what’s your chakra type?”

“Lightning.”

Ah, yes. The second most common type in—.

Wait.

She looked up at her mother, bewildered. “Where did my water come from, then?”

Her mother didn’t look at her, gaze trained on her palm as she continued tracing the lines there. “I don’t know, Kyou. I don’t know.”

The fuck.

Was it because she wasn’t just Kyou? Was Julia the water type? Was that a thing determined by souls, not bodies?

Whatever. She was too tired to care.

She slumped against her mother, pulling her hand free so she could wrap her arms around her narrow waist.

“Do you know any exercises to help with yin chakra? I’m not supposed to train like normal without Warai, but I don’t wanna go back to the Clan training. My cousins are assholes.”

While not strictly truthful, her words made her mother laugh again. A hand began petting her hair.

“I know a few.”

Sweet! Extra time with mom! This would be so fun!


	13. No Strings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally gonna be part of a single massive chapter alongside the previous two, and I am so very glad I split it, holy cow. The next chapter was gonna be part of it too! No way Jose, nope, never, nunca, I'd rather die. Blegh.

Ah, such naïveté. So blissful, so fleeting, so treacherous.

It was not fun. It was the furthest thing from fun. If fun was the sun, it was on Pluto…er…ninja Pluto?

It, of course, was training with her mother. While intellectually stimulating—when was the last time she actually used her brain instead of just letting her sharingan sort everything for her?—it was also physically taxing. She liked to think her stamina was pretty good, but she collapsed face first onto the pokey straw mattress at the end of every day without complaint, unconscious before she even hit the sheets.

They weren’t even _doing_ anything. Every morning, Kyou got up, made breakfast—because baa-chan _still_ hadn’t come back to visit her horrible, evil grandchild—cleaned up, and then joined her mother in her strengthening exercises. That was it. Except it wasn’t.

Because her mother did everything so _slowly._ It was like watching a snail. Inch by agonizing inch, her mother moved across the room, lifting things only to put them back down. Kyou swore she was going extra slow just to make her life harder. And! The whole time, she was circulating chakra through her body, pumping it through her muscles like a ghostly steroid. She knew this because she’d taken a super secret peek with her sharingan, careful to keep it from her mother’s view. The first thing that came to mind was Tsunade’s super strength, but Kyou didn’t know enough about it to be sure. It was probably something completely different, since the magic seal of eternal youth was an Uzumaki technique—right?—and her mom was obviously not an Uzumaki.

She was obviously not an Uchiha, either. Kyou’d never really thought about it past privately celebrating her own genetic diversity, but her mother didn’t look like anyone else in the Clan. Uchihas were pale, with fluffy hair, round, black eyes, and short, stockier frames. Her mother was tall and slender—though that might have been her malnourishment—with a narrow face and skin that soaked up every errant sunbeam and tanned easily and eagerly. Her eyes were sharp and a warm brown, her nose was long and hooked, her mouth wide though her lips were thin. She didn’t look anything like an Uchiha, at all.

Kyou wanted to ask about it, but she was afraid. Her mother got a weird look in her eyes when she tried to ask about her—even over things as simple and inane as a favorite food—and she hadn’t lived as long as she had by poking at people with funny looks in their eyes. She was probably overreacting. In fact, she knew she was. She still couldn’t find the courage to ignore the instincts which had saved her from the worst of Satan’s wrath.

So, rather than voicing any of the million questions running through her mind, she focused on manipulating her chakra. Yin chakra was still beyond her grasp and she wasn’t at all bitter about how hard learning was without the sharingan. Not at all.

Ok, she totally was, but that was nobody’s business but hers.

It wasn’t her fault the pinwheel of darkness made everything easier. They weren’t a catch all cheat like the anime made it seem, since knowing how to do something didn’t automatically mean she had the ability to do it, herself, but they did round out the learning curve by a significant margin. At least, when using her sharingan, she knew _what_ she needed to learn. Without it, she was stuck guessing and floundering in the dark.

It really drove home just how…unearned her reputation was. Tobirama was a real genius, making all his discoveries without an education or magic eyeballs. Imagine how amazing he could have been with both.

Kyou’s melancholy dissipated when someone knocked on the door. Her mother immediately made to sit down, letting go of her chakra as she resumed her role as an invalid. Kyou opened to door, at once relieved and upset to see it wasn’t her grandmother.

“Zuzu,” she said with a chipper smile. “What do you want?”

He scowled at the nickname. “Father sent me to tell you we’re fighting the Senju tonight. We leave at dusk.”

Ah. Ok.

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll be ready.”

Her cousin hesitated, lingering in the doorway with a grim expression. “Kyou,” he pursed his lips, looking for all the world like he’d swallowed a lemon. “You can fight Tobirama, if you want. I know I’m the one who usually faces him, but, if you want to, you can do it.”

Aw. How…murderously cute.

“Thanks for the offer, Zuzu, but I’m good.” She smiled down at him with a shrug. “If anything, I should get him a gift.”

Izuna snorted, his face melting into a smile he was clearly trying to restrain. “Right. Just thought I’d offer. See you later!”

She waved as he ran off, laughing to herself. She closed the door and turned back to her mother, her levity fading in the face of her serious expression.

“Kaa-chan? Is something wrong?”

Her mother beckoned her forward with her hand, reaching out and patting Kyou’s head as she came over.

“The Senju are your friends, right?” Her voice was quiet, but much stronger than it was in the beginning. “I…remember you saying something like that, once.”

Oh, wow! That was…ages ago. It was nice that she remembered.

“Yeah, I said that,” she confirmed, smiling up at her mother. “We’re not friends anymore, though.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweeting.”

Kyou shook her head, her mother’s hand on her head ruffling her hair. “It’s fine. It would have been nice to stay friends, but our families fight too often for that to be possible. In another life, maybe we could have been more than enemies.”

“War is cruel,” her mother agreed, running her nails through Kyou’s hair. “Children shouldn’t have to throw away their friendships over wars they didn’t start. You shouldn’t even be fighting.”

Yeah! You say it ma!

“My poor little girl. You should be at home, not on a battlefield.”

Um…yeah?

“If I didn’t know the fate that awaited you, I’d tell the world the truth, so you could stay here with me.”

Yeah, no.

Kyou pulled away from her mother’s embrace, trying her best to school her expression despite her annoyance. “What do you mean?”

The older woman sighed, taking Kyou’s face in her hands and caressing it with her thumbs. “Oh, Kyou, my Kyou. You’ve been trained as a shinobi, so you don’t know what kunoichi are expected to suffer. The things we go through for the sake of the Clan—I would never wish it on anyone, least of all you. Never you.” Her voice trailed off into a harsh whisper, a manic light in her eyes as her grip on Kyou’s head tightened noticeably. “Never you.”

Uhhh…

“But kaa-chan,” she began, nervously licking at her lips. “Don’t kunoichi know how to fight?”

Ah. That made it worse. She should have just waited for it to pass.

Her mother’s expression warped into something foul, her brows furrowed and teeth bared. Her grip on Kyou’s face grew uncomfortably strong, nails digging into her skin. Her breathing came in heaving gasps, her entire torso moving with the force of it. Her eyes were round, pupils blown wide with whatever demons had possessed her, a thin ring of brown around a pool of black. She was looking _through_ Kyou, now, at something only she could see, something which frightened her.

Kyou could do nothing but wait for the episode to pass. Satan sometimes got a similar look in his eyes, gaze locked on the middle distance. She learned fast not to engage him when it happened, not if she wanted to go to bed uninjured. Even then, he often beat her, regardless, just for existing. Her mother had never raised a hand to her, but she’d only known her for a month. Even Satan waited a year before he hit her the first time.

And she was back, blinking as her eyes refocused. She let Kyou go with a hiss, holding her hands up and away from her daughter as though she’d been stung. She looked at Kyou with wide, terrified eyes, a light dawning in them.

“Oh, Kyou, I—.” She reached for her only to draw back, her hands shaking roughly. “I—I—.”

“It’s ok, kaa-chan,” Kyou assured her honestly. “It’s my fault for asking.”

Her mother’s face crumpled, tears welling in her eyes. She brought her hands in toward her chest, folding in on herself with a sniff.

Kyou sucked on her teeth as she watched her mother close off. It was pretty early in the day for a shut down, but she had no one to blame but herself. With any luck, her mother would come back to herself by the time she came back from the battle.

Wait.

She turned to the ungainly heap she’d kept her armor in for the last month. Tajima had been merciful and allowed her to stay home for ‘mourning’, so she’d just left it while she focused on her mother. Satan had always put so much emphasis on caring for it, which made sense, but she got such a kick out of doing everything she knew he’d hate she just…left it.

She couldn’t just leave it, anymore.

She rolled her neck with a sigh before walking over and settling into a lotus position and pulling a piece of armor from the pile. It was a greave, the red lacquered metal crusted over with month old dried blood. The leather ties were stiff and brittle and the padded silk interior was irreparably stained.

Oops.

She…probably should have cleaned it…

Kyou snapped her neck to the side, releasing a satisfyingly sickening series of cracks. There was nothing for it. She’d just have to clean it as best she could before dusk. It was still morning, anyway. She’d have time.

But only if she started now.

Right now.

Come on, brain, focus!

Nope. She should have done it while she was still in battle mode. The sun filtering through the one window hit her back at just the right angle, warming her body and urging her to sleep.

With a sigh, she looked over her shoulder at her mother. She was still sitting on the edge of the bed, nonresponsive. There’d be no help coming from her. Maybe, she could ask her grandmother…

The dread and sheer nopeness that filled her with that thought were enough to kickstart her motivation. She reached over and grabbed the old jar of leather softener and got to work, not at all guilty about her baa-chan. Nu-uh.

* * *

The armor was too small. Somehow, she’d outgrown it in a month. It was a pretty recent set, too, only just passed down to her from Madara when he got a new one. Her other cousins were super jealous about it, too. Sucks to suck.

She tugged idly at the vambrace on her arm, trying to get it to cover her wrist. It was a little embarrassing, really, almost like wearing highwaters to school, but with much deadlier consequences. She was viscerally aware of the gazes watching her, of the whispered conversations they took no pains to hide from her. Sure, the armor was too small and, yeah, there were still a few spots of blood she wasn’t able to get out, but that wasn’t her fault. She didn’t ask to be tall.

(This was a lie. She’d prayed every day to inherit her mother’s height. But that was irrelevant.)

A large hand settled heavily on her head, ruffling the hair she’d been unable to tie away from her face. She looked up at her uncle, his black eyes empty even as his mouth smiled.

“Kyou.” Fuck. He wanted something. She could tell. “I need you to do something for me.” Called it. He guided her away from the crowd of Uchihas waiting for the order to go, his thick fingers tangling in her hair. “You’ve been training your sharingan, right? Your Kairi? Do you think you can use it in battle, tonight?”

Ah. Ahahaha. No. Never. Not in a million years.

Yeah, ‘cause she could totally just say that.

“Of course, Tajima-sama,” she said instead, the words still intelligible despite her clenched teeth. “Is there anything else you would like me to do?”

He clearly didn’t like her tone, but he didn’t comment on it. “Try and use it against one of those Senju bastards, if you can. I want to know what it can do.”

_I wAnT tO kNoW wHaT iT cAn Do._

“Of course, Tajima-sama. I will do my best.” Not.

He nodded, then stood there. Watching her. His hand on her head. Holding her still.

Fuck.

She sighed internally, cursing the man for daring to make sure she would listen. He’d forced her to give a demonstration for the council once he thought she’d had enough time to get the hang of it, so he knew what setting boundaries for Kairi looked like. Luckily, she’d gotten even better at it, and could probably slip some things past him.

“I will fight to the best of my ability.” _I will not hurt any children._ “I will defend my Clansmen with all my power.” _I will defend any children regardless of their Clan._ “Should the opportunity arise, I will use my sharingan on one of my opponents.” _I will do everything in my power to avoid such an opportunity_. “I will deactivate my sharingan after the battle ends.” _And if any of the previous points are violated._

She closed her eyes, pulling chakra into her eyes and activating Kairi. Just like that, she was no longer annoyed with her uncle. She watched placidly as he walked away from her, leaving her on the outskirts of the gathering. No one approached her, not even Madara or Izuna, which was odd, but not an issue. When the order was given, she leapt into the air alongside her Clansmen, her chakra gathering in the soles of her feet and coating her sandals to give her traction as she jumped from tree branch to tree branch. Night raids made up the majority of their battles, their eyes granting them an advantage over most opponents, but it was rare that the Senju would be out after dark. Over the course of their millennia long war, the two Clans had earned the names “Day” and “Night” and held virtual monopolies over the work in those twelve hour periods. When they did overlap, it was often the result of rival clients trying to use the Clans’ animosity to their benefit.

Kyou knew nothing about who’d hired her Clan. She didn’t care. Even without Kairi, she’d never given it a second thought. It was one of the reasons she was unfit to lead, no matter how badly Junsuke-jii-sama wanted her to. Under her Mangekyou’s influence, her flaws were even clearer. Too short tempered, too petty, too female—she met none of the necessary criteria for a proper Clan Head.

To be fair, neither did Tajima.

Madara was as close as anyone got, and she knew that might change the instant Zetsu sunk his claws into him.

Not that she cared. (She did, and Kairi made it impossible to deny.)

The battle was apparently to be had along a river, with both Clans lining up on either side of the rushing water. Something nagged at Kyou’s memory, but Kairi kept the feeling at bay as she focused on Tajima, awaiting the signal to begin. He gave it, an almost imperceptible tightening of his shoulders, and typical battle chaos ensued.

Kyou immediately moved to the edge of the group, removing herself from the worst of the violence but not enough to spare her the need to fight. Kairi adhered to the conditions set for it with a vicelike grip. She’d promised to fight, so she would, but she’d also promised to avoid any chances to use her sharingan. They were almost contradictory orders, but fulfilling them both was easy so long as she focused on subduing her opponents as quickly as possible and made sure to fight only adults. They were all careful to avoid her gaze—she had no idea what it even looked like, since she’d never owned a mirror in her life—and Kairi was all too happy to pick them off one by one. She was actually running out of people to fight. If she wasn’t careful, she’d have to move toward the cluster of jutsus and murder where most of the fighting was happening. It would be a lot harder to meet all the criteria set before activation if she did, though, so it was probably best to—.

“Kyou-kun!”

Dread skirted the edges of her consciousness, and memories of fleeing this particular child rose unbidden in her mind. Kairi felt no need to run, however, and instead raised her kunai defensively.

“Kyou-kun,” Itama said as he came to stand in front of her, his two toned hair soaked with river water and sweat. “Please, talk to me.”

Talking was not one of the directives. Annoyance brushed against the glass wall between Kyou’s mind and her emotions. Under normal circumstances, she would simply run, leaving Itama behind as she desperately avoided confronting her one time friend. Now, however, Kairi’s objectives overruled any affection she might otherwise feel for the boy. She’d promised to fight to the best of her ability, so she dove across the river, her kunai clashing against his with such force that sparks flew between them. He staggered back, barely keeping his footing on the shallow water.

“What? Kyou-kun, what are you doing?”

She pressed on, keeping her body close to his. The Senju were typically taller than the Uchiha, and more lithe in build. Where Kyou stood head and shoulders taller than all the other children in her age group, Itama was only maybe a couple inches shorter than her, looking up into her eyes as she pushed him as hard as Kairi’s objectives would let her.

Ah. He was looking into her eyes.

She could feel it, chakra building behind her left eye. The miniscule muscles inside it flexed, doing something her distant emotions were screaming—distantly—for her to stop. She couldn’t stop, though. Using her Mangekyou was one of the objectives. Here was a Senju looking her straight in the eye. Ignoring that opportunity would be to break Kairi’s rules of operation.

Itama’s gaze morphed from confusion to terror, something in her eyes frightening him. Did the Senju know about the Mangekyou? Canon had not prepared her for that possibility.

Canon had prepared her for no possibilities.

Itama’s dark eyes glazed over, the light of life fading so quickly she expected him to fall and was vaguely surprised when he didn’t. He didn’t do anything. He stood atop the shallow water, arms loose at his side, expression blank in a way she’d never seen it. She jumped back and away from him, her kunai raised defensively as she braced for an attack that didn’t come. He just stood there.

Kyou turned away from him, Kairi driving her to find another fight to fulfil its objectives. A far away part of her was screaming about something or another, but Kairi held it at bay, the wall between mind and her emotions firmly in place. There was another group of shinobi standing somewhat apart from the main battle and she gathered chakra in her feet in preparation to join the fray only to use it to leap backward as Tobirama’s blade sliced through the river where she’d been only seconds before, water splashing upward with the force of the blow.

He turned furious red eyes on her, his gaze on her face but not her eyes. “What did you do?”

The angry demand was certainly justified, but, again, talking was not one of her objectives. She could only raise her own blade in anticipation. He didn’t attack her though. Instead, he rushed to his brother’s side, taking the shorter boy’s face in his hands.

“Itama? Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

Itama said nothing, did nothing, only stood there and accepted his brother’s poking and prodding.

Tobirama turned to glare at her again, his teeth bared in an expression more beast than human. “What did you do? He still calls you his friend, and you hurt him like this? Are the Uchiha so cruel? I thought-I thought you were better than them.”

What? No. She hadn’t hurt him. He was fine. Not a speck of blood on him. She couldn’t have hurt him. Kairi’s objectives expressly demanded she _not_ hurt any children. Itama was a child. So, she didn’t hurt him.

Had she?

The wall damming up her emotions shattered like so much glass, all her panic and fear swelling to fill her brain. She clawed at her throat as she suddenly lost control of her breathing, too shallow breaths starving her mind and body of precious oxygen. Holy shit. _Holy shit. **Holy shit**_ **.**

Hands. There were hands pulling at her arms, forcing her to let go of her neck. She coughed and sputtered as air filled her lungs, her breaths still coming in short, panting gasps but no longer impeded by her own iron grip.

**_ FUCK. _ **

Higan. That was what she’d used on Itama, her eyes naming themselves again like the freaky, alien abominations they were. Higan and Kairi. Fitting names for such disgusting powers. Her entire body recoiled from them and she bent over, bile pouring from her mouth and into the river, the proof of her upset carried downstream.

**_FUUUUUUUUCK._ **

“Kyou, are you alright?”

She looked up at Tobirama. Though his tone was tentative, his expression was still on the edge of angry and Kyou finally just accepted that he just looked Like That™. His hands were wrapped around her wrists, tight grip digging the edges of her vambraces into her skin. She coughed around the sting of vomit in her nose and nodded.

“I’m ok, now, thanks Tobi.”

He released her, stepping back. Before he could start asking questions, she jerked her head upstream, away from the battle.

“Grab Itama. If anyone sees him like this, it’ll be bad.”

He didn’t argue, simply slinging his brother over his shoulder and following her as she led the way to an outcropping of rocks that looked weirdly familiar.

“Set him down. I’ll see what I can do.”

“What exactly is going on, Kyou?” His tone was hard, but not mean or cruel like he sometimes was. “You…You were—.”

She held up a hand. “I can’t answer that, Tobi. It’s a Clan secret, I’m sorry. As much as I want to be able to trust you, so long as your father is the one calling the shots I’m afraid I can’t.”

His lips thinned but he nodded sharply, accepting their reality for what it was.

“What happened to Itama?”

She drew a shaky breath and forced herself to look at the youngest Senju brother, his blank expression calling up very unpleasant memories. “He looked me in the eye, Tobi. I-there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it.”

“What is ‘it’?”

She could trust him with a little bit, right? She didn’t ever want to use that ability again. Ever. Just thinking about it made her want to puke again.

“It’s called Higan. It,” she hesitated. “Do you remember what I told you about my mother?”

He nodded. “She was sick, right? She couldn’t speak or move on her own.”

She laughed, the sound raw and wholly unamused. “She wasn’t sick. My father—that _demon_ —he used Higan on her. I know he did. After you killed him, she was fine.” Tobi stiffened at the mention of her father’s death and she managed to muster up a smile for him. “Thanks for that, by the way. It was the best day of my life.”

He clearly wasn’t sure how to take that, so she kept on before he could respond.

“I don’t know how to turn it off, or if it even _can_ be turned off. I’ve never used it before, Tobi, and I didn’t want to, but I promised Tajima I would, if the opportunity arose.” She shrugged helplessly. “It’s not my fault Ibaka has no sense of self preservation.”

If he took offense to the nickname she’d given his brother, he didn’t show it. If anything, he seemed to agree with her, sighed heavily with a shake of his head. Then,

“You used it on yourself.”

It wasn’t a question and Kyou was reminded that Tobirama was one of the greatest sensors, _period_. He’d probably noticed there was something off about her.

Unable to deny it, she nodded. “Yeah. It’s called Kairi when I use it that way. I can’t break any promises I make while using it, so when Itama looked me in the eye, I—.” She shrugged again, unable to continue past the lump in her throat until she cleared it. “It helps me fight, so I’m not afraid to hurt anyone, you know? It makes life easier back home.”

She didn’t elaborate on that, but she didn’t need to. Tobi knew enough about her circumstances to understand without an explanation.

“Can you free him?”

That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

Her treacherous eyes were stinging and she resisted the urge to rub them. They deserved all the pain they brought themselves, evil little shits.

“I can try.” Ugh, her voice was so small and afraid. “I-I don’t know if it will work. My mother didn’t wake up until after you killed Satan, so…” She trailed off and somehow found the courage to look at him. Like always, he was looking toward her but not really at her, ever cautious in the presence of a sharingan. “If I fail, you can kill me.”

He recoiled as though struck, an actual emotion crossing his face, though still subdued. “What?”

“I mean it, Tobi,” she insisted. “I-I didn’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to hurt anyone, ever again! It’s horrible and I hate it! I have to put myself in a chakra induced dissociative state just to fight defensively! If dying can save him from living like my mother did—.” Tears spilled over, rolling down her face thick and heavy. “Please, say you’ll do it. It wouldn’t be the first time.” That last bit probably wasn’t as comforting as she meant it to be, but it was true. She had died before, in a glorious ball of fire as her motorcycle exploded underneath her. It was probably the only memory of Before she was glad to see fade, and she was sure death by Tobi’s blade would be far less painful or lingering.

She stepped up to Itama before his brother could reply to her desperate plea for death. She could vividly remember Higan’s activation, the moment carved into her mind for all eternity by an active sharingan. Was it any wonder everyone who had one went crazy? Memories faded for a reason, after all, and having all their trauma kept perpetually fresh by magic mental Tupperware was probably not conducive to a healthy mental state.

A thought occurred to her just as she began calling on her chakra and she turned back to Tobirama.

“You can have my eyes, if you kill me. I wouldn’t suggest using them until you’re older, though. Uchihas have special chakra networks, so anyone else gets drained super fast. If you want to use them, you’ll need way more chakra than you currently have.”

He stared at her, dumbfounded, and again she was forced to face the fact that he was just so damnably cute. His pale skin and hair set him apart from literally every other human she’d ever met, in both lives, and a life of intense physical activity had erased any trace of baby fat from his face and body. He didn’t look like a twelve year old boy, even though she knew he was one. She was technically many times older than him, with a mind far more matured than her body, but she still looked at him and saw someone worth looking at, someone she’d like to _keep_ looking at, rather than the cute kid her adult mind should be seeing, instead.

It was a little gross, actually, but it wasn’t his fault.

“Why would you tell me that?”

It took her a minute to retrace her thoughts back to whatever he was responding to—this was why Kairi was so useful, no tangents! “Ah, well, because I like you.” WAIT. “That is-I mean-you-ah, you’re smart! And you’ll be even smarter with a sharingan?”

Well, fuckity fuck fuck.

She turned back to Itama and prayed to every god who might listen that his older brother hadn’t notice the blush rising on her face. She was eternally grateful for the melanin she’d been blessed with, the darker tone of her skin hiding the flush much better than Tobirama’s.

She took a big breath and let it out, gathering chakra behind her left eye. Having different abilities in each eye was normal for Mangekyou, right? That’s what her memories told her, anyway, though she was starting to think Kishimoto’s canon couldn’t be trusted, anymore. Her left eye began to sting, her chakra activating the muscles in her iris and doing something. Her vision changed. Only one eye was activated, and the difference in clarity between her right and left was dizzying. She assured herself it was only temporary and dismissed her discomfort.

“Itama, look at me.”

He obeyed, dark eyes looking up into hers with neither question nor protest. It made her sick. This was how her mother had lived for so long. Years before Kyou was even conceived, she was a slave to Satan’s Higan. Nausea turned her stomach and she forced the rising bile down through sheer force of will.

“I need you to wake up, Itama,” the words were thick with an emotion she never wanted to feel again. “Please, wake up.”

He held her gaze, unmoving, and for a single heartrending moment she thought it hadn’t worked. She was going to die, again, and she wouldn’t even get to say goodbye—to Warai, to her mother, to baa-chan.

She hadn’t even apologized to baa-chan.

Then, a light came on in his eyes and he stumbled back, his hands coming up to clutch at his head. Tobirama was by his side in an instant, speaking low, comforting words she never imagined she’d hear the legendary ice prince say.

Relief washed over her, weakening her knees and threatening to knock her over. She couldn’t let it, though. She couldn’t stand to be there, an interloper in their brotherly bonding moment, for even one more second. She turned away, her limbs moving as though on puppet strings, her control distant and mistranslated.

“Kyou!”

She ran. She wasn’t too ashamed to admit it. She ran away from Tobi’s voice and Itama’s sobs and the horrible fact that she really was her father’s daughter and her itching eyes that insisted on defiling the sanctity of her mind by naming themselves and using themselves and—.

“Kyou? What are you doing?”

She stopped, her uncle’s sharp tone freezing her in her tracks. She turned to look up at him and something in her expression softened the anger in his blood spattered expression. The battle was over, she realized dimly. Both Senju and Uchiha were collecting their dead and injured, the solemn task enough to inspire a temporary truce.

“Please.” Again, her voice was small, weak, little more than a desperate whisper. “Please, don’t ask me to use it again. Please.”

His lips thinned, sharingan eyes looking her over with a calculative edge. He stepped forward, his sandal sinking into the blood soaked soil. His large hand came to rest on her head, blood gluing the black strands to his armored glove.

“Alright, Kyou. I won’t.”

It was a lie. She knew it was. But she took it and held it to her heart as she cried, rubbing at itching eyes that demanded to be used, no matter how wretched their abilities. Tajima’s hand lingered only for a moment before the weight left her head and he walked away, leaving Kyou to cry alone in the mud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 痺玩 = Higan = Numb + Toy  
> 解離 = Kairi= Dissociation
> 
> Higan separates the victim's mind from their body, rendering them unable to control their own movements. They are still conscious, aware of everything done to and around them, but they cannot interact with the world on their own. Once used, its effects will remain even if the sharingan is deactivated and it can only be undone by using the Higan a second time. Shuji, the scumlord, used it on Kyou's mother to keep her under his control. Kyou has it in her left eye.
> 
> Kairi is similar, but not the same. It allows the user to 'step back', if you will, and enter a dissociative state wherein their emotions no longer affect them. This can be dangerous, as the user will no longer react in ways they normally would, but this can be mitigated by setting strict parameters before activation. Kyou uses it to push aside her qualms about violence, but enforces her 'only in self-defense' rule to keep it from getting out of hand. Kyou has it in her right eye.
> 
> I figured these abilities weren't too weird for a sharingan to have, since the Tsukiyomi can mess with your perception of time and Ametarasu generates magic fire. ╮(￣ω￣;)╭ They fall under genjutsu, I think, and I imagine Kairi (and maybe Higan, who knows, not me, lol) would be classified similarly to Madara's Izanagi, which he used on himself to rewrite his own friggin' _death! _So, y'know, Kyou's not _that _op. Ehe.____


	14. Savant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! It's been a while, lol. Here's some Tobi!

Tobirama walked alone through the forest, his heavy footsteps leaving no trace on the surface of the snow. Wet, fat snowflakes fell from the sky, sticking to his heavy winter haori. Despite this, the snowfall was relatively light compared to the previous week, over which several feet of snow had piled up. His brothers had taken the opportunity to lead mock battles with their cousins, building icy fortifications and throwing hardpacked snowballs at each other in the brief respite from combat granted by the weather. Soon, the first storms of the season would calm down and the Clan would begin the winter campaigns against their neighbors, maintaining their hard won borders and cementing the old alliances.

The Uchiha would be doing the same, he imagined.

He sighed, his breath warming the scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and the lower half of his face, the brown fabric soft against his skin. His hands were wrapped in somewhat thin gloves, the negative effect on his dexterity a necessary annoyance. Though he was no longer conscious of the cold, his body would still succumb to it if he didn’t take the right precautions. It was still vexing, though. Was there a way to maintain one’s body heat even in the dead of winter?

If so, then maybe Midori-sensei wouldn’t need to leave for warmer skies every year. She never went back to the summoning realm, but she did leave when the weather started to turn, since her incredible size made it impossible to fly without the proper thermal winds. She always came back with interesting stories and trinkets, though, so it wasn’t so bad. He only wished he could go with her. With her gone, he was forced to interact with his kin more than he preferred. He could only socialize so much before he snapped.

Thus, his solitary walk in the snow. No doubt, his brothers were being educated in the use of the mokuton in a winter environment. Not something Tobirama could join them for. Even his shed, his one refuge, was barred from him, serving its original purpose as a storage unit and filled to the brim with vital winter supplies.

The elders didn’t want him in there, lest one of his experiments ruin its contents, which, they had a point, but it was only one time! He wasn’t so stupid as to make the same mistake twice!

He stopped, forcing himself to take a deep breath, exhaling with perhaps more force than necessary to dispel his anger. He had no reason to be angry. The elders were justified in denying not only him, but anyone access to the storage while it was full of vital winter supplies. He wasn’t the only one. It was fine.

It wasn’t, but he needed it to be and so it was.

He continued his walk, wandering aimlessly with no destination in mind. So long as he was back by nightfall, he could go where he wished—a difficult feat, when he had nowhere he wished to go. What was the point? If he found something which interested him, he would inevitably have to abandon it at the end of the day, leaving himself frustrated and his family on edge as a result. It was better to avoid anything which might catch his attention, lest he lose track of time or become invested in a project he could never feasibly finish. He had too many of those as it was, occupying his mind and distracting him from the things he _could_ do with the time and resources available to him.

With a start he realized there was a human being not twenty yards ahead. The range of his sensing was usually at least a kilometer, but it must have shrunk while he was distracted by his thoughts. Unacceptable.

Now aware of the other person, he quickly expanded his range to check for any others who might be in the area. There were none, but the reality that there might have been had him angrily berating himself for his carelessness. Twenty yards was not so far. If the person he sensed had been so minded, they could have killed him in the time it took him to realize they were there.

Except, they wouldn’t, because the person was Kyou.

Immediately, the tension left him and the reaction filled him with shame. This wasn’t someone he had to fear, she’d proven that time and time again, but she was still an Uchiha, his ancestral enemy. If anything, he should be taking this opportunity to end her life, ridding his Clan of a formidable opponent, should she ever change her stance on combat violence. He couldn’t bring himself to even entertain the thought, though, not after she’d saved his brother’s life not once, but twice. Had Itama been caught by any other Uchiha, he would have died. Of that, he was certain. But, because it was Kyou, he was alive—far less trusting and approaching his training with a ferocity that both delighted and concerned their parents, but alive. The fire his encounter with Kyou’s _Higan_ lit inside him would no doubt save his life in the future, as well.

If she wasn’t an Uchiha—.

Tobirama shook his head to dismiss that thought. ‘What ifs’ were useless. She was an Uchiha, and that was that. If anything, she was only able to save Itama, at all, because she _was_ one. Otherwise—.

He dismissed that thought, too, choosing, instead, to focus on Kyou.

She was sitting on the bank of the frozen river, almost exactly where they used to meet as children. He’d never once returned there after their encounter on the battlefield, but Itama had many times, in the beginning, hoping to find his friend, but to no avail. Even from so far away, Tobirama could sense her frustration. She was doing something strange with her chakra and he huffed a small laugh as he remembered the last time she struggled on the riverbank. Looking back, it was painfully obvious that they belonged to rival Clans. She was aware of it from the beginning, no doubt, but she didn’t let it stop her from seeking them out.

Her anger spiked and was accompanied by a loud, wordless screech, the sound echoing through the winter landscape and sending several animals running for cover. She must have failed, then. He remembered being on the receiving end of that anger, once, and he took a moment to be grateful he wasn’t the source of her troubles, this time. Then again, he’d also solved them, before.

That thought had him walking forward, again, his body moving as his mind ran itself in circles trying to understand the decision he’d just made. It was stupid. Illogical. Dangerous. But he was doing it anyway.

He stepped out past the treeline, his steps still perfectly silent despite the fresh snow. Across the river, Kyou’s blurry silhouette was a spot of darkness against the white of winter, her clothing, hair, and coloring standing in stark contrast to the season. She was…doing something… _jumping_ , she was jumping around in a circle, cursing under her breath with language Tobirama would be beaten for even thinking. She took no care for the snow beneath her feet, kicking at it angrily and grunting unintelligibly when the powdery frost didn’t put up any resistance.

This was an Uchiha? The people his entire Clan claimed to be heartless, hate fueled monsters corrupted by a curse beyond their control?

Certainly, Kyou seemed rather hate fueled at the moment, her fists pounding into the trunk of a defenseless tree with neither mercy nor quarter, but he’d experienced similar anger, had he not? When his seals failed or his experiments exploded, wasn’t he, too, filled with objectless rage? While Kyou was always angry in some fashion, she rarely acted on it like she was now, and even so her targets were trees and snow, not the Senju.

Of course, that might change, now that she’d noticed him.

“What the fuck? Tobi?”

Ah, he hadn’t missed her eloquence.

He said nothing, but he didn’t need to, Kyou filling the silence between them with words that in no way matched how her chakra jumped with anxiety and…was that…fear?

“Well, I’ll be,” she laughed. She was probably wearing a smile, though he was too far away to see it, even vaguely. “Finally decided to take your vengeance, huh? It sure took you long enough.”

He blinked, the way Hashirama said made even the elders feel like idiots, and something in Kyou’s chakra stuttered.

She didn’t say anything and they stood there, on opposite sides of the river, in silence. He could feel her gaze on him, though he couldn’t see her eyes, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“What?”

Again, something changed in her chakra, alerting him to her every shift in mood. With some relief, he noted that she was no longer afraid—he kicked himself mentally for that reaction—and was instead…embarrassed…and a little ashamed?

“Aha,” she laughed again, this time the falseness of it clearly audible, ringing strangely in the bitterly cold air. “Nothing, nothing.”

Once again, they both fell silent, awkward in a way they never were on the battlefield. Then, it was a matter of life and death and there was no time to muse over why one did or didn’t speak, or over why their chakra kept leaping from one emotion to the next. It was bad enough his brothers’ mood fluctuated so wildly, did she really have to be the only Uchiha to do it, too?

“Um,” she began, hesitation in both her voice and chakra. “Did you need something?”

“You were screaming.”

That…wasn’t what he meant to say. It was true, though, and it got her chuckling again, albeit with embarrassment.

“Ah, right, sorry about that. I’ll try to be more quiet?”

She trailed off, probably realizing how ridiculous she sounded. Tobirama scoffed into his scarf, the sound setting off her apparently volatile temper.

“Well, its not like I knew you were there,” she insisted, chakra roiling with shame and anger in equal measure. “Sorry for screaming in what I assumed was solitude, you jerk.”

The laugh that left him surprised him with its sincerity and he cleared his throat to dispel the choes of it from his throat.

“What were you working on? Was it another suiton jutsu?”

Her chakra stuttered again in response to his question. “You remember that?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Her chakra swirled into a mire of anger and sadness. “I don’t know. Most people forget things from their childhood, I guess.”

Most people. “Not you?”

Her laugh was bitter. “No. I can’t. These stupid eyes won’t let me.”

Well…that was new information. Did the sharingan have an effect on memory? That ran contrary to the common theories held by his Clan. If it did, how did that account for—?

Ah. No. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. There was no way he’d ever be able to answer any of those questions. Even if Kyou was willing to explain what she knew, the odds of her understanding it, herself, at her age were incredibly low.

He forced his mind to let go of its fixation on the sharingan, though he knew it would inevitably resurface at a later date. “Well, I remember. Specifically, that I helped you with the last one. Do you,” her chakra was doing something again. “Need help, again?”

Before he’d even finished his sentence, she was in front of him, her face only inches from his own. At that distance, he could see the way her sharp eyes had widened, the rich brown sparkling with delight. She was smiling, all her teeth bared with the force of her joy.

“Yes! Oh, my God! Yes, a thousand times yes! You have no idea how long I’ve been struggling with this! I can’t even use my sharingan—which, why the fuck was I cursed with these evil eyes if I can’t use them to cheat when learning jutsus, huh? It’s not fair!”

She continued to ramble excitedly, the details of just what she was trying to do passing through his ears like so much smoke. She was glowing, really glowing with the happiness his simple offer had given her. The anger that was always lurking in the shadows of her chakra was gone, drowned out by the light of her joy and anticipation. Whenever he offered to help his brothers, he was more often than not brushed off with fake smiles and promises of ‘next time’. They didn’t understand his explanations or were bored by his methodology, preferring to struggle through before finally reaching the very conclusion he’d tried to teach them. Kyou’s exuberance…it was only because she hadn’t sat through a lecture, yet, hadn’t tried and failed to understand him and the way he saw the world. When she did, the light of her joy would be snuffed out, just like his brothers’.

No, she’d understood him once before, hadn’t she? She was different from them, a genius, like him. Surely, she, of anyone, would understand. ~~He wasn’t sure what he’d do if she didn’t.~~

“Slow down,” he said, pushing her out of his space with a frown. “What are you trying to do?”

She bounced from one foot to the other, her excitement expressing itself physically. Would her disappointment do the same? “I _told_ you, I’m trying to isolate my yin chakra. I use it automatically when I activate my sharingan, but I can’t seem to figure out how to do it on my own. It’s so frustrating!”

That was…novel. He’d never heard of any techniques that used only yin chakra. What applications could it possibly have?

Though he wanted to ask, he refrained. The rivalry between their Clans may not matter to Kyou, but he was honor bound to share anything he learned with his Clan, should it prove beneficial. If he didn’t know what it was for, then he could delay his report until he inevitably figured it out.

“How have you tried to do it, thus far,” he asked. “Have you used any specific training techniques or tools?”

She shook her head, long black hair falling into her face only to be pushed back with a sigh. “No. I don’t have anything like that. It’s just trial and error, really.”

That made things more difficult. Two minutes in, and he was already invested, desperate to know what kinds of jutsus could be created using isolated yin chakra. Or yang chakra. Having never even considered such things, he was left to discuss it with the only person who had, but she knew as little as he did, it seemed.

How vexing.

“It would be easier if I could look at someone doing it with my sharingan,” Kyou admitted blithely. “Then, I could see exactly how they were doing it. But I can’t. My kaa-chan is the one with the technique, and I don’t even want to _think_ about the evil eyes of doom when I’m around her, you know? But, she doesn’t know how to explain it, either, so I’m stuck flailing around until I magically strike gold.”

Yes, that…that was limiting. “How did she explain it?”

She huffed, raising one hand with the forefinger extended and adopting an odd affectation to her voice. “Yin chakra is based in the spiritual realm, the imaginary and illusory welling from it. Genjutsus are the most common techniques which use it, but they aren’t the only ones. To channel yin chakra, you must be in tune with the intangible, make real the conceptual, and solidify the abstract.” She deflated, sticking out her tongue, a flash of pink against the warm brown of her skin. “Because that makes _so_ much sense.”

Hmm, it was very roundabout, but if he was understanding it right, then…

“It sounds like she’s saying you need to use your imagination,” he said with a quirk of his head. “‘Make real the conceptual’—that just sounds like doing things, to me. All ideas are conceptual until you act on them, so, from what I can tell, you’re supposed to practice doing something that brings ideas to fruition. Maybe writing? Or art? Maybe a new technique or—.”

She was staring at him. They still stood close enough together that he could see her face somewhat clearly and her brown eyes were wide and fixed on his face. Ah. This was it. This was the part where—!

Tobirama stared into Kyou’s eyes, subconsciously counting every shade of gold and brown radiating from dilated pupils as her hands on either side of his face pulled him down to her level and forced him to make intensely uncomfortable eye contact.

“You,” she said lowly. “Are an absolute genius.”

What.

“You’re brilliant,” she continued, oblivious to his inner turmoil as he continued to hold his face in place, looking up at him with an adoration that was mirrored all too clearly by her chakra. “I knew it, I knew you were the real thing! Two seconds! It took you two seconds to figure out the thing I’ve been struggling with for months! Ha!”

Tobirama pulled her hands away from him, gripping her wrists to keep her from repeating the action. “What are you doing?”

The glow of her chakra dampened slightly, an overcurrent of shame pushing down the happiness that threatened to blind him. She pulled her hands from his grasp, taking several steps back.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t—I just—You’re so amazing! I spent all this time agonizing over something so simple and you just—.” She sighed, a thread of darkness overtaking her chakra in the form of anger and despair. “See, this is why I wanted to give you my eyes. You’d use them so much better than I can.”

He’d carefully avoided thinking about their last conversation, the implications of it still weighing too heavily on his mind to be discussed openly, even with her. A fist closed over his heart as he watched the light go out in her chakra, smothered by the sickeningly familiar shadow of self doubt.

“Why?” She looked up at him and he realized he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. “Why,” he continued. “Do you think that way? You’re just as much a genius as I am…” He trailed off as she shook her head, her long hair once again falling into her face, though she made no move to fix it.

“That’s the thing,” she said, tone subdued in a way Kyou should never be. “I’m not. I’m a cheater. My eyes came in sooner than anyone else’s in history and they made everything easier, but I don’t actually know things. I don’t know why moving my chakra a certain way gets me certain results, I just know how to do it because my eyes watched someone else do it and memorized how they moved their chakra. I didn’t put any work into it, so it doesn’t mean anything to me. Hell, just the way you figured out that stupid riddle when I couldn’t is perfect proof! You use your brain all the time, so it was easy for you. I’ve never had to use mine, ever, so it was super hard for me. We’re not the same, Tobi. You don’t want to be.”

He…wasn’t sure how to respond to that. As he feared, the brilliant joy that had filled her was gone, but it wasn’t because she couldn’t understand him. She’d understood him perfectly and somehow turned that understanding into a reason to berate herself, as though not only needing, but successfully receiving his help was something to be ashamed of.

“Stop that.”

Her chakra froze as she looked up at him with surprise. “What—?”

“Stop,” he repeated, letting all his annoyance show in his voice. “That’s enough. Do you know how many people in the Senju Clan are studying yin chakra? None. I’m willing to guess you’re out here in the cold because the Uchiha are the same. You’re the only one thinking about this, with no one but yourself to turn to for answers.” Midori-sensei’s words spilled from his lips of their own accord, their meaning suddenly clear to him as he imparted the giant bird’s wisdom onto someone else. “You can’t expect to uncover truths when the only voice you hear is your own. Instead, you’ll just reinforce the falsehoods you’ve accepted as truth.”

The briar thorns wrapped around Kyou’s chakra loosened their grip, ever so slightly, but their roots held firm.

“But I—.”

“No,” he reached out and placed a shaking hand on her mouth, stopping her protests before she could voice them. “That’s enough. You’re not stupid, Kyou.”

She said something, but it was muffled by his fingers. A spark of mischief lit her chakra and he pulled his hand away with a grimace, the thin fabric of his glove moistened by her tongue. She laughed at him, the sound genuine and he let himself relax. Still, the remaining sadness in her chakra filled him with guilt.


	15. I Believe Kyou Can Change The World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that, according to Chinese tradition, water is a yin element? I had literally no idea, but it all worked out, lol.  
> Sorry if it feels a bit disjointed. I'm struggling with writing beyond 2k ｡ﾟ･ (>﹏<) ･ﾟ｡

Water.

H2O.

One of the five traditional elements.

The liquid which covers over seventy percent of the Earth’s surface, which makes up approximately the same amount of a human’s body, and without which all known forms of life will surely perish.

Also, pure fucking yin.

Kyou watched, a grin on her face, as the water floating above her palm held the shape of a sphere, liquid despite the freezing temperatures. After talking it out with Tobi—the one true genius of their generation—she realized what she’d been doing wrong. Yin was the element of imagination, so why the fuck was she trying to find physical signs of its existence? It was already inside her, powering her daydreams and nightmares alike. All she had to do was harness that potential for her own ends.

Again, she wasn’t really sure how it worked and she didn’t have the technical vocabulary to describe exactly what she was doing, but, in the most basic of terms, she was just letting what she wanted to happen happen on its own terms, picturing the end result without fussing over how it came to be. It was a little hard, at first, since her sharingan had her so used to knowing every step her jutsus took, but once she learned how to take a backseat to her own chakra, it was actually pretty nice.

The water shit was a neat bonus, too.

She noticed right away that gathering yin chakra almost always resulted in a gathering of atmospheric water, too. The water was easier to manipulate when she circulated yin chakra through it, taking all sorts of shapes that were inconceivable only one conversation ago.

Tobi was so fucking awesome. She wanted to share to the fruits of his mental labor with him, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Was it selfish? Obviously. But, if she kept her discoveries to herself, she’d have a reason to seek him out.

Plus, she kinda liked being the only legit waterbender in existence. Sue her.

The sphere of water changed shape, coating her hand like a glove. The fingers hardened into points, becoming wickedly sharp claws that glittered the harsh winter sun.

Mwahahaha! No longer did she need to use hand signs to turn water into ice! Now, it happened the instant she imagined it, the element helpless before the might of her whims!

Her entire body was filled with buoyant joy as she threw her arm out to the side, the deadly cones flying from her fingertips and embedding themselves into an innocent tree up the to first knuckle. Finally! All the dreams she’d nurtured since first learning her chakra nature could be brought to life! All thanks to the chakra whose literal job was bringing dreams to life! Who’d’ve thunk it?

If only she’d tried to use yin chakra earlier, she might have learned some cool shit by now.

Oh, well, she could start learning cool shit, now! Who was gonna stop her? Warai was back in the summoning realm, Satan was in hell, and her kaa-chan never left the house. She could whatever she wanted! Mwahahahaha!

Ok, evil mastermind time was over. Time to actually think about the thing she learned to use yin chakra for, in the first place.

From her, admittedly faded, memories of days spent scouring the Naruto Wiki, the first step to using medical ninjutsu was channeling pure yin or yang chakra. While hers was somewhat contaminated by the water she’d spent so long learning to control, she was fine with that. There were worse people to resemble than Katara, after all, and she may as well take her waterbending to the ultimate aesthetic extreme, maybe trademark it while she was at it.

She scooped up a palmful of snow, willing it to melt and become water. With the power of magic and chakra, it obeyed, once again coating her hand like a second skin. It wasn’t even cold! She cackled as it began to glow, the yin chakra she channeled through it making its presence known in the most obvious way possible. The light was bright and could probably illuminate her entire house at night. Still, she had to frown.

It was blue. The medical techniques she remembered were green, not blue. Did it even matter?

She knew so little about medical techniques beyond the fact that they technically existed, and, not for the first time, she berated her past self for not paying more attention to a show she supposedly liked. Did color mean something? Was it only medical chakra if it was green? She had the yin chakra down, what was the next step?

She vaguely remembered something about a fish…but it was fucking winter and, even with her newfound mastery of her element, she didn’t feel like chipping through the ice just to torture an animal for what might end up being no reason.

Fish are friends, and all that.

No, what she needed was a guinea pig.

Izuna had a few bruises, right? He’d sit still while she fucked around with his insides, right?

“Kyou-kun? Is that you?”

The water she’d gathered around her hand stopped glowing and lost its shape, falling onto the snow with a plap. She turned around to see her favorite cousin, the mighty Madara himself, approaching her with a soft smile on his face. He was…thirteen? Thirteen. He was thirteen, now, and was starting to resemble the him who would bring the world to its knees. He still wasn’t old enough to wear the official high collared yukata all the adults in their family wore, but the thick scarf wrapped around his throat was a good substitute. Still, he wore far fewer layers than Kyou, his fire natured chakra keeping him warm in ways her water, while objectively superior, could not. Unless…

Could she use yin chakra to warm herself up?

Madara walked up to her, standing on the surface of the snow like some kind of Legolas. It was a waste of chakra, in her opinion, and everyone knew the best part of snow was the footprints.

“You sounded like you were having fun,” he said kindly. “Do you mind if I join you?”

Hmm, well, not technically, no, but the odds of him actually being able to do what she did was—.

He had the fucking sharingan. Fuck.

She hid her hands behind her back and turned her face away with a sniff. “It’s a secret!”

Madara, angel that he was, laughed at her refusal instead of taking offense. “Really? It sounded fun, though. Are you sure I can’t take a peek?”

Uh, yeah? Like hell she was letting him steal her super awesome technique! It was a Kyou only exclusive! GTFO!

He laughed again, the sound a little strained in the face of her rejection. “I get it. I’m sorry for asking.”

He turned to walk away and Kyou’s calcified conscience sank bony fingers into her heart. She reached out to him, catching the back of his kimono and tugging him to a gentle halt.

“You can’t tell,” she pouted, cursing the soft spot she had for him. “It’s mine.”

He turned around, the smile on his face tugging at the heartstrings she could have sworn she’d trimmed from existence. He closed the distance between them, his body radiating warmth.

“I won’t,” he promised in a whisper, his foggy breath mingling with her own. “Is it a jutsu? You haven’t come up with a new one in a while.”

Right. She’d never come up with new jutsus, only changed the ones the rest of the Clan used to suit her suiton chakra. Maybe, one day, when she was big, she’d be able to use a fireball like everyone else. She knew how, thanks to her sharingan, but her body just wasn’t able to do it.

She brought her hands out from behind her back, bending over and scooping up some snow, her bare fingers burning with the cold. She held the soft, fluffy ice in her hands, looking down at it as it started melting in the ambient heat of Madara’s body. Did she really want to do this? If she showed him, he might tell his dad, and then she’d have to show _everyone_. She didn’t want to. It was hers.

And Tobi’s. Hers and Tobi’s. Not Madara’s.

She looked up at her cousin through her hair and he met her gaze with a smile.

Well, it should be fine. He was the good one. He said he wouldn’t tell, so he wouldn’t. Even if he did, maybe nobody would be able to do it, their katon limiting them the way her suiton did her.

A knot of anxiety tied itself in her chest, but she started channeling her yin chakra, anyway, the snow in her hands melting and rising to hover above her cupped palms. It glowed faintly, the blue light that so confused her refracted by the liquid onto their dark clothing in mesmerizing shapes. It was pretty, she’d give it that, but she had a specific function in mind that rendered its pleasing form moot.

“Kyou,” Madara whispered, his hands coming up to cup at the air around the floating blob of water, coming close but not quite touching it. “This is amazing.”

She chanced a glance up at him and noted with relief that his sharingan wasn’t activated. The secret of the pretty water was safe.

“What does it do?”

The water froze, going from fancy jelly to a ball of needle sharp spikes in the time it took for his voice to fade from the air. Madara jumped back, black eyes wide as he watched the dangerball melt back into a pretty lava lamp.

She smiled at him, taking immense joy in the fright she’d given him. He still wasn’t using his sharingan, so she felt pretty safe repeating the finger blade trick she’d come up with before, once again impaling a poor tree with little icicles. Madara watched, open mouthed, as she gathered up more snow, making another, bigger floaty blue light for his amusement.

He walked back up to her, this time finding the courage to poke at the water with a gloved finger. The water avoided him and he huffed a breathless laugh.

“Kyou, this is…this is incredible! How did you—?” He cut himself off, shaking his head with a smile. “No, I know. It’s a secret, right?”

“Mmhm!” She molded the water into a lumpy facsimile of a hyena. “No telling!”

He chuckled wryly, gaze never leaving the water. “Amazing. I don’t even know where I’d start to try something like this.”

She smiled smugly, conveniently forgetting how long she spent mulling over the most obvious clue in the history of riddles. He laughed at her arrogance and pat the top of her head, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“Good job, Kyou-kun,” he said, the genuine pride in his voice filling her with warmth. “You really are a genius.”

* * *

“Kaa-chan, I have a question.”

Her mother hummed in response, her hands never pausing as she combed her hair. She sat on the edge of the bed they still shared, her back perfectly straight. She was much stronger now after so many months of her strange daily training. She was eating better, too, so she looked a lot healthier, color in her cheeks and light in her eyes. She still never left the house, but she often sat in the light from the window, so her tan was much deeper now, too.

“What can I do with yin chakra once I figure it out?”

The comb froze mid pass, glossy black tresses caught in its teeth. She turned her head to look at Kyou, brown eyes regarding her in the stiff way that told her she’d asked a bad question.

“What do you mean? I thought you had a plan?”

“I do,” she said as she carefully stitched at a hole in her handmedown yukata. “I’ve hit a bit of a roadblock, though, so I thought I’d look at the other things I can do to see if they solve my problem.”

Her mother’s hands resumed their task, though rigidly. “I see. Yin chakra can be used in many ways. Genjutsu is the most common, but it’s far from the only thing it can do.”

Yeah, she knew that. Even now, she was hyper aware of the water in the air, the element practically begging to be used in tandem with her yin chakra. It was weird, but not terrible. She’d have to ask Warai about it when he came back.

“Like what?” She kept a careful eye on her mother’s movements, watching for any signs of distress. “Do you know any techniques?”

She did, she just wasn’t gonna share. The way she tightened her grip on the wooden comb and increased the pace of her combing told Kyou all she needed to know. Her mother kept a lot of secrets and whenever Kyou got close to one, she got incredibly agitated. She never hit her daughter, though, not on purpose. Sometimes, her brown eyes glazed over and she held on tight enough to bruise, but she was always sorry, after. Kyou couldn’t find it in her to blame her mother for those episodes. She wasn’t like Satan, taking out her anger on the nearest helpless victim. Kyou didn’t know very much about PTSD or flashbacks ~~other than she probably had them, too,~~ but she knew the victims couldn’t really control when they happened. All she could do was try to learn her mother’s triggers and avoid them.

Even if it meant having her questions go unanswered.

Like, where was her mother from? She wasn’t an Uchiha, that was for certain, but Kyou knew nothing about her life before she was presumably deceived into marrying a psychopath. From the Clan gossips, she’d learned that her mother was supposedly a civilian, but…she could use chakra? Understood it on a fundamental level and used it to recover from the bullshit Satan had put her through—physically, at least. That didn’t sound like a civilian. It was more likely that her mother was from another shinobi Clan, but Kyou didn’t want to ask about that. If the Clan thought she was a civilian, then she was probably undercover, or something, and if the elders found out…

Well, some things could stay secrets.

“Forget it,” Kyou said, holding her yukata up to the light to see if she’d missed any holes. “It’s not that important—.”

“Have you stopped to think,” her mother interrupted, voice small and shaky. “About what it means to be intangible?”

Kyou froze, arms locked above her head as she realized she was actually getting an answer to her question. Slowly, she lowered the yukata, looking at her mother’s stiff back with wide eyes.

“‘What it means’…Well, it means you can’t touch it, right?”

“Not normally, no,” her mother confirmed, arms wrapped around herself so tightly Kyou could almost hear her bones creaking in protest. “But with yin chakra…” She sighed, loosening her clenched muscles one by one before turning to look at Kyou over her shoulder, expression tired. “There are a lot of things in our everyday lives which we can’t normally interact with, Kyou, but are nonetheless present.”

That made sense. Now, if only she’d said that from the _beginning!!!!_

It gave her a reason to talk to Tobi, though, so she’d forgive her. This time.

Kyou watched as her mother went back to combing her hair, clearly done speaking on the subject, and sighed to herself. Her yukata was repaired, so she set it aside and dragged over her newest set of armor. It was one of her older cousins’ old sets, as Madara was still wearing his. She was growing faster than any of the boys and being tall was a welcome novelty but she waws sure it was starting to annoy some of the more violent minded boys. With Satan dead, she lost her most prominent connection to the main family. Sure, she was still technically a member, but the ‘make Kyou our leader’ campaign had all but officially died. Without the elders in her corner, her position in the Clan was shakier than ever and there was no shortage of people taking advantage of that. Although, she wasn’t sure why. The only reason anyone disliked her was the threat she supposedly posed to Madara’s position, right? Unless…

Was there another reason for people to hate her?

You know, beside the fact she was a total bitch.

“Kyou.” Her mother’s voice brought her from her musings. “Do you like living here? With this Clan?”

The question caught Kyou off guard and she couldn’t stop the violent snort that ripped through her sinuses. “Fuck no! They’re all assholes! Well, except for Madara, Zuzu, and baa-chan, but the rest of them can burn in a fire for all I care. Meanies, the lot of them!”

Her mother laughed in response, quiet but genuine, and Kyou let herself smile at the rare accomplishment.

“I see,” her mother said, laughter still ringing in her voice. “yes, they have been… _meanies_ , haven’t they?”

“Yeppers! Total asshats undeserving of love or affection.”

Her mother laughed again and Kyou fought the urge to let out a victory cry. Twice! She’d made her mother laugh twice in one day! Huzzah!

“Kyou, do you love me?”

“Of course, I do! You’re my kaa-chan!”

“That’s good.”

What a strange question.

* * *

The unsuspecting victim walked at a leisurely pace, hands folded behind his head as he meandered through the village. His footsteps left no imprint on the snow, his subconscious use of chakra keeping him from sinking. He spared no glance for his kin as they made their way to and from their homes, going about their business as he did his. Unfortunately, he spared no glance for the sky, either, or he might have been able to avoid being pressed face first into the snow, the weight of a cousin bearing down on his back.

“Kyou!” He sputtered, knowing instinctively which cousin it was. “Get off me!”

She cackled, pressing him further into the snow with unnecessary vigor before rolling off him.

“Got you, Zuzu,” she crowed, placing her hands on her hips in a classic display of arrogance. “Constant vigilance!”

Izuna pushed himself up off the ground, hastily dusting the snow off his clothing before it could melt and soak his skin. He made a face at his younger cousin before turning away from her, arms crossed over his chest in a pout.

“Zuzu~,” she crooned, reaching out to wrap her cousin in a too tight hug. “I need a favor.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what it is~.”

“I don’t need to. If it’s you, it’s gonna hurt, get me in trouble, or both.”

“Mmmm~, Zuzu, please. I’ll oil your armor.”

He opened one eye and looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Fix my clothes, too.”

Ah! She had him.

His posture loosened as she nodded vigorously, falling into her trap with practiced ease.

“So,” he asked, head tilted back to give him the illusion of looking down on the taller girl. “What do you want?”

Quicker than lightning, her fist flew out and struck him on the outside of his arm. With a reflexive yelp, he grabbed at the newly injured spot, blinking back tears before they could ruin his oh so manly image.

“What was that for?” He whined.

“I need a bruise. Now let me see.”

He fought her off as she tried to pull his winter yukata from his shoulders. “Woah, stop! What are you doing?”

She huffed impatiently at him. “You’ll see when I do it, now show me your arm.”

He regarded her warily for a long moment before slowly pulling his arm from his sleeve, goosebumps prickling his skin as he exposed it to the crisp winter air. She took his bicep between her hands, vision sharpening with sharingan clarity as she assessed the injury she’d dealt him. As expected, the sharingan alone wasn’t enough to really see the damage beneath the skin. Calling on her yin chakra, she ignored the way Izuna stiffened under hands in response to the liquid water that rushed to coat them.

Yes. With her hands covered in yin filled water, she could actually feel the way his capillaries had burst beneath her fist, blood rushing to the area to facilitate healing.

Right. This was the important part. Looking at her own body, she had a vague understanding of how an unbruised arm looked. Taking that model, she applied it to her chakra and then applied her chakra to the rapidly forming bruise.

She watched, transfixed, as the damage was undone, not quite reversing itself, but certainly healing at a much faster rate than would otherwise be possible. Was she speeding up his body’s own internal processes, or was she asserting her will over it? Did it matter?

“Uh, Kyou? Can I put my clothes back on?”

She came back to herself and let him go, stepping back with a smile on her face. “Thanks, Zuzu! I figured out something important!”

He looked at his arm, twisting it this way and that before tucking it back into his sleeve and giving her a narrow eyed look. “Uhuh. And are you gonna tell me what you did, or…?”

Her smile grew a little sinister. “Nope.”

“Right. Ok. Can you fix my yukata by tomorrow? Kaa-sama will be mad if she finds it like it is.”

She nodded absently, already lost in the plans she had for her future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew Kyou (♡°▽°♡)


	16. Mommie Dearest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some of you will know from my tumblr post that a family member died of Covid recently. It hit me pretty hard and I wasn't even able to be with any of my family because the aunt who died lived in Mexico and that kind of travel is understandably difficult at the moment. I spent a lot of my childhood visiting her and other older family members in the village where my grandmother grew up, but now there are no members of our family who still live there, as the younger generations all left for the city or emigrated to other countries. What is essentially our ancestral home is now empty, and I don't know if any of my family in Mexico will end up claiming it for the sake of the land or to live there. Either way, it won't be the same. 
> 
> I've had a hard time writing even for school because of this, but I managed to get this chapter done. Kyou is 9 years old here, but she'll be 12 or 13 in the next one, so it's a big time skip. I laid all the groundwork I wanted to, so now more of the plot will start showing up. I hope you like it.

The late winter sun reflected off the glistening snow, the warming air melting the white blanket that had draped over the forest for months. The river, no longer frozen, was babbling happily, providing a full underscore for the symphony of birds intent on rebuilding their springtime nests and the general hustle and bustle of a land revived after a long winter’s nap.

Kyou shifted her weight where she sat cross legged on the river’s evermoving surface. Her entire body was encased in a thin layer of yin chakra, the viscous energy swirling as she maintained its circulation. She inhaled steadily, feeling the way her chakra interacted with the water in the air around her and the river below. Slowly, she exhaled, the water beneath her moving to answer her call. When she opened her burning red eyes, she was sitting on a pillar of moving water, the power of her yin chakra more than enough to divert the river’s flow in such an unnatural way. She let herself smile, careful not to let her elation break her concentration, lest she fall ass first into the frigid waters.

With another slow breath in and out, she lowered herself back down and stood, stretching her arms over her head with a loud groan and a satisfying pop in her spine. Under her sandals, the river returned to its natural course as she pulled her chakra back into herself.

“Hehehe,” she laughed, the joy bouncing around in her heart finally finding release. “Mwahahahahaha!”

Her sudden outburst sent birds flying for their lives, leaving her to chuckle alone like a madwoman.

Finally. Finally! How long had it taken her to lift her own bodyweight like that? Only all fucking winter! Too long! Way too long! Her pride could only handle so many reminders of her own mediocrity, ok?

She grinned down at her clenched fists, water manifesting in slender streams which wrapped themselves almost lovingly around her wrists, solidifying into bracelets of solid ice. Though they sat against her bare skin, they didn’t feel could. Instead, Kyou smiled even wider at the hum of power contained within them.

She was getting stronger. Soon, she might even be strong enough to leave the Uchiha Clan for good, without fear of retaliation. Of course, even then she wouldn’t be ready to leave. She still needed to be strong enough to take her mother with her, after all. And maybe baa-chan, too, if she could be convinced.

“I thought I heard someone making a fool of themselves.”

Kyou turned around, the smile on her face losing its sad twist as she looked upon her sudden guest. “Tobi!”

The instant she looked at him, she immediately looked away, a hand cast over her eyes to protect them. How? How could someone be so goddamned pretty!? Tobirama’s white hair and pale complexion had him looking like one of those guys in a Chinese fantasy drama, the snowy backdrop adding to his mystical allure. Over the past season, he’d had another growth spurt, what little baby fat he had transforming into muscle. Every time Kyou met him ‘coincidentally’, she had to beat herself over the head with the fact that he was a _thirteen year old boy!_ Bad Kyou! Bad!

Ah~! But he’s so pretty!

“What are you doing?”

And he doesn’t even know it, the jerk! Here he is, blinding her preciously evil eyes, and he has the gall to ask such questions?

A clueless beauty is truly the cruelest of all.

“It’s nothing,” she said, finally getting ahold of herself. “The light was in my eyes.”

The look he gave her made it abundantly clear he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t pursue the issue. Instead, he clicked his tongue in what Kyou had come to understand was his way of sighing. Really. This boy was too complicated. Couldn’t he just emote like everyone else?

Unless…unless he couldn’t?

There were a million reasons why he would have difficulty expressing emotion, his asshole father among them—or maybe Hashirama and Itama got all the emotion genes. Without knowing the specifics of his situation, she really shouldn’t be so judgmental. Besides, she understood him just fine, right?

“Have you learned anything cool?” She asked, turning off her sharingan. Though they often met like this and discussed the jutsus and techniques they were working on, there was a tacit understanding between them to never ask directly about the fundamentals behind a technique—or use the sharingan. “If you’d come a little sooner you’d have seen me finally make that break through I was whining about before.”

“Oh?” He raised one pale eyebrow. “So, you admit you were whining?”

Her face lit up with flaming embarrassment. “Sh-Shut up! It’s not my fault whining at you solves all my problems!” She turned away from him, crossing her arms over chest in a theatrical pout. “You listen better than my dumbass cousins, ok? Hmph.”

She didn’t have to be looking at him to know his expression hadn’t changed. He was a stoic kid with the most micro of micro expressions. If Kyou didn’t have fancy magic eyeballs, she’d think he was angry all the time. His default expression was a narrow eyed scowl that made him look way too much like his dad, but Kyou was starting to think he just needed glasses or something. His brows always unfurrowed when he was working on something up close, after all.

Poor guy. His vision must be shit.

Just another reason to give him her eyes, should misfortune befall her.

That was one of the reasons she played up her actions around him. She wasn’t sure and she didn’t want to piss him off by asking, so she just took the initiative to project her emotions so he might pick up on the social cues better. Sure, she probably looked pretty stupid, but it was kinda fun. If only she could figure out how to stop doing it with Izuna, too…

“I should hope so,” Tobi replied, tone flat and unamused in the way Kyou knew meant he was totally amused. “If they took the time to understand your problems, they would be much more formidable as opponents.”

True, true. If more people listened to Kyou, they’d be smarter by association!

Ego sufficiently stroked, she turned back to Tobi with a wide grin. “Tobi, you’re the only one who understands me!”

Aha! There it was! Her guiltiest of pleasures! A brilliant red blush spread across Tobirama’s face, down his neck and even over the tops of his ears. He turned away from her, clearing his throat and scowling.

No! Bad Kyou! He. Is. A. _Child!_

“I,” he said, clearing his throat again when his voice broke, renewing the heat of his blush. “I have also had a breakthrough.”

Ha. Smooth transition, there, buddy. “Ooh! Really! That’s so awesome! On to the next project then, yeah?”

That….should have sent him ranting and raving about his newest off the wall experiment, but instead it seemed to…make him sad?

“Tobi? What’s wrong? Is Hashibaka being extra stupid again? Do you want me to get Mada-nii to beat him up while extolling the virtues of brotherhood, or something?”

He snorted, lips tilting upward in a rare smile, but the expression faded as swiftly as it came. “No, that won’t be necessary. Kyou,” he hesitated, the nervous look on his face completely out of character. “I don’t think I’ll be coming back.”

Oh.

“Oh.” She shifted her weight. “Is that it? I mean,” she said in response to his wide eyed shock. “We always knew this might happen, Tobi. Yeah, I’ll miss you and, yeah, it’ll be boring without you, but what did you expect? It’s already a miracle we got hang out as often as we did, you know. In another life…well, we should just be grateful we got to pretend we were friends.”

As she spoke, Tobi looked more and more constipated. Finally, he just reached out and placed a hand over her mouth, stopping her.

“Would you listen,” he said gruffly, voice cracking again. “I wasn’t finished. I probably won’t be back because my sensei has returned and I won’t have the same amount of free time to spend with you.”

She stuck out her tongue and licked his hand, leaving a lavish heaping of saliva on his calloused skin. He pulled his hand back with a grimace.

“I see how it is,” she said with a dramatic sniff. “I was just a replacement, huh? Now that your ‘sensei’ has come back, you have no use for little ole Kyou. Is she pretty, Tobi? Should I be jealous?”

Ah, what was she doing? Tobi was looking at her like she was insane, face scrunched up and eyes wide. How easy it was to forget he thought she was a boy—he could be gay, though…that was a very real possibility. He never got married in canon, right? Never had kids? Damn, in a world where Sasuke and Naruto were consistently labeled ‘bestest friends’, being gay was probably…not ok?

Poor Tobi.

‘Poor Tobi’ sighed, actually sighed, long and heavy and filled with exasperation. “I’ll be back next winter, Kyou.” And he walked away, clearly all out of patience for her weirdness.

Well, that was fine. Being seasonal friends was fine. Really.

…

Like fuck it was fine! Who was she gonna talk to about her amazing innovations with yin chakra, now? Who was gonna praise her for figuring things out all by herself? Who was gonna let her talk at them until she realized she knew the answer to her question all along?

She turned on her heel and stalked off, ignoring her Clansmen when she reached the village in favor of stomping into her home and throwing herself face first onto the bed.

“Kyou, sweeting, what’s wrong?”

She moaned loudly in response to her mother’s concern, refusing to even entertain the answer to that question. She knew why she was upset and she also knew it was stupid. Too stupid to bring into reality.

A slender hand began to rub at her back. “Well, whatever it is, it sounds quite terrible.”

Kyou laughed a little and rolled over onto her back, looking up at her mother. Hitomi was much healthier now than Kyou could remember her ever being. Her stupidly slow training and a proper diet had done wonders for her, filling in the hollows of her cheeks and putting a bounce in her step. She took regular walks around the village perimeter, now, and the constant exposure to the sun had darkened her skin far beyond what Kyou’s could achieve. She was healthy, glowing, and concerned.

Kyou pouted. “Boys are stupid.”

Her mother’s brown eyes widened in surprise before squinting shut as a bout of laughter shook her. “They are, aren’t they?” She looked down at Kyou with an all too familiar smirk on her face. “Can I ask which boy is being so stupid?”

Once again, Kyou felt her face heating up and she was absolutely certain that, if she were a fire type, she’d have spontaneously combusted.

“Oh? I know what that face means,” her mother crooned, smile widening. “Shall I have a talk with his parents, just to smooth things over until the wedding?”

Kyou’s good mood soured and her mother immediately caught the shift.

“Oh, sweeting, are his parents stupid, too? Do I need to teach them all the ways my Kyou is better than their wimpy little brat can ever hope for?”

Kyou snorted and shook her head, pulling herself up into a sitting position and grabbing a fistful of her mother’s clothing. “No. If you tried to meet his parents, they’d probably kill you.”

Understanding crossed Hitomi’s face. “I see. So he’s one of your Senju boys, is he? Well,” she continued, talking over her daughter’s indignant squawk of protest. “I suppose there’s one thing I could try—.”

“Please don’t,” Kyou begged her, bright red face buried in her mother’s chest. “I’m the one who’s stupid, so please, just forget about it.”

She thought her mother might continue her teasing, but she didn’t, instead wrapping her up in a tight hug.

“Kyou,” she said softly as she ran a hand over her daughter’s hair. “Do you love me?”

“Lots!”

“That’s good.”

Nearly a week later, Kyou found herself being shaken roughly, her still sleeping mind protesting the violent disturbance.

“Get up, Kyou,” her mother’s voice cut through the haze of sleep. “We need to hurry.”

She sat up in bed, blinking groggily as her mother rushed to get her dressed. She made no protests as her hair was pulled up out of her face with more force than necessary, her tired brain calling up memories of her grandmother’s soft hands.

“Come,” her mother demanded, pulling her out of bed and to the door. “The watch will be changing soon, and we need to get out before the alarm is raised.”

Alarm? What alarm?

“Kaa-chan, what’s happening?”

Her mother placed a hand on her head, the moonless night casting her grim face in menacing shadows. “Do you love me, Kyou?”

“Yeah, why?”

“If you love me, then you’ll be quiet and do as you’re told, alright?”

Well…she wasn’t sure what was going on, but her mother wouldn’t be doing something like this without a reason, right?

“Ok.”

Hitomi grabbed Kyou’s wrist in a bone crushing grip, surprising her daughter with her strength. The two rushed through the village, the shadows of night clinging to them like a second skin. Kyou could almost feel their weight, the new moon darkness somehow deeper than it should be. Her mother had no issues navigating in the night and they were soon in the forest outside the village. Hitomi’s footsteps made no sound and Kyou stared up at her mother with quite a bit of confusion. Everyone in the Clan said she was a civilian, but what kind of civilian knew things about yin chakra and kunoichi training?

These were thoughts Kyou had often, but she dismissed them every time. Her mother freaked out whenever her past was brought up, and Kyou didn’t want to hurt her anymore than Satan already had. Hitomi was making great progress, the fact that she was stealing away in the night was proof of that.

Wait.

“Kaa-chan, where are we going?”

The snow crunched under their feet as Hitomi whirled on Kyou, slapping a hand over her mouth with alarming force. It stung, but the panic in her mother’s eyes overrode any pain Kyou felt.

“Be quiet,” she hissed, voice barely audible over the wind rustling through the bare branches above them. “If you love me, you’ll be quiet.”

Her mother resumed tugging her through the forest, her pace faster than before but just as silent. Kyou’s eyes itched, the sharingan begging to be activated as she struggled to see through the midnight black, but she refrained. Her eyes were not to be used around her mother, no matter how much better they made her night vision.

Still, though she kept her mouth shut, Kyou couldn’t help but question her situation. Were they…running away? Escaping the Clan? Together?

A flutter of excitement filled her chest only to be mercilessly squashed by a horrified realization. Kyou stopped dead in her tracks, chakra digging into the snow beneath her and anchoring her place, yanking her mother to a halt. The tall woman turned back to her daughter with anger and confusion written on her narrow face, but Kyou cut her off before she could speak.

“Kaa-chan,” she said lowly, sharingan itching just behind her irises. “What about baa-chan?”

Her mother looked at her for a long moment before kneeling down in the snow. She placed her slender hands on Kyou’s shoulders, gaze locked onto Kyou’s eyes with a seriousness Kyou had never seen her wear, before.

“Kyou,” Hitomi said, voice barely more than a whisper. “We need to hurry. We don’t have much time. If you want to leave to leave that Clan behind, you need to do it now.”

Her mother’s tone was slow and measured, and some of Kyou’s panic was quelled—but not all of it.

She took a step back, freeing herself from Hitomi’s grip. “No.” Her voice rang out in the silent forest. “I won’t leave baa-chan.”

The knot that had tied itself tighter and tighter around Kyou’s heart had reached a critical stage, cutting off the blood flow and sending waves of vertigo through her mind and body. She couldn’t leave. Not without baa-chan. She hadn’t even apologized yet.

“It’s not your fault,” she continued, searching her mother’s dark eyes for any sign of understanding. “It’s not your fault you weren’t there, but you still weren’t! Baa-chan was! I can’t just leave without saying goodbye. Please, kaa-chan! Let me say goodbye!”

Her mother looked at her, expression as cold as the snow now falling from the sky. “Kyou, do you love me?”

She barely managed to quell the automatic reflex to simply say yes and obey, physically shaking off that mental shackle. “I love baa-chan, too!”

Her mother’s expression didn’t change, but Kyou more than recognized the light in her eyes. Her rebellious words had triggered her mother’s anger, something she spent every waking hour trying to avoid. Instinctively, she tried to step back, out of her reach, but something held her fast.

“Kyou,” her mother said as she stood, looking down at her daughter with sharp eyes. “This is not the time to be stubborn. Come,” she turned away and began walking, Kyou’s body moving against her will to follow. “We’ll talk about this later.”

…

What the actual fuck?

Kyou strained against whatever mystical force was making her move, but to no avail. Her legs continued to carry her forward, away from the Uchiha village—away from baa-chan.

She had no idea how Hitomi was doing it, but she didn’t have to know how it worked to make it stop. She knew perfectly well that all she needed to do was disrupt her mother’s chakra. However, she wasn’t entirely willing to go that far. After everything Satan had done…she didn’t want to be like him, no matter what.

She also didn’t want to leave her baa-chan behind like this, though.

Her mother picked up her pace, again, and Kyou’s body ran along behind her as they took to the trees. Honestly, Kyou didn’t mind leaving the Clan. It was her ultimate goal, after all. Her issue was with the whole kidnapping thing her mother was doing. Really, it was probably Kyou’s fault for not letting her mother in on her plans, but she didn’t want to add to the worries weighing on Hitomi’s mind. Stealing away in the dead of night was a good plan, she had to admit, but there were a few flaws she picked out right off the bat. She had no idea where they were going, or why, or who might be waiting for them, and there was one thing Kyou hated more than anything: not knowing shit.

Slowly, cautiously, she activated her sharingan, keeping a careful eye—hah!—on her mother’s back, lest she turn and find the bane of her existence in her daughter’s face. Hitomi didn’t turn and Kyou let out an anxious breath. Ignoring the whispering of her Mangekyou, she analyzed the way her mother’s chakra moved in and around her body, suffusing the air around—no. Not the air. Something else.

It…it was almost like the way Kyou’s chakra moved when she was controlling water. But…what was her mother controlling? Her chakra nature was lightning, but there was no way she was controlling electricity…right? Was she…controlling Kyou’s body from the inside!?!?!!?

Pfft, no. Not possible…right?

Right. Right! Looking at her mother’s chakra, it was reaching out behind her, starting beneath her feet and connecting to Kyou’s in a vaguely familiar shape.

…

Shit.

So. Her mother was a Nara. Huh.

It wasn’t…entirely unexpected…

Bullshit, Kyou was completely blindsided. What the fuck? Why was a Nara fucking around with the Uchiha? Weren’t they supposed to be smart? What kind of dumbass provoked Satan?

Ok, that wasn’t fair. Maybe her mother was sent to the Uchiha against her will by her Clan head and elders. Maybe being an asshole was a universal prerequisite for those positions?

As sad as that made Kyou feel for her mother, it didn’t change the fact that she was so viciously ignoring. Her mother—presumably a Nara—was taking an Uchiha child away—presumably into the waiting hands of other Naras—very much against their will.

This…this was bloodline theft…right?

Well…Fuck.

Kyou bit her lip, vainly trying to hold in her anger. Her mother suffered for so long, having so many children only to watch, helpless, as her ‘husband’ killed them or sent them to their deaths—and for what? Obviously, it was to get a shiny new set of evil eyeballs for the Nara Clan. Shit.

She _hated_ her eyes. They were disgusting. Abhorrent. An affront to basic human rights. Evil incarnate.

Like fuck she was gonna just hand them over to people who would use them like the weapons they were supposed to be! And like fuck she’d let a bunch of old assholes try and breed her for more!

She renewed her efforts to break free from her mother’s shadows, but her body continued to follow along, limbs controlled by invisible puppet strings. Was this what her Higan did to people? Robbing them of their physical autonomy, minds watching helplessly as their bodies follow someone else’s commands?

Ew. Yucky. She didn’t like it. She did not like it, Sam I Am.

Of course, freeing herself would be so much easier if she were a fire type like the rest of her family. One fireball and boom! No more shadows. Alas. She was a water type. No bright lights for her. ~~Though the gremlins were probably grateful.~~

She’d just have to disrupt her mother’s chakra manually.

She reached out with her chakra, absently noting the similarity between the way her chakra moved and her mother’s shadow technique. Maybe that was what she was trying to teach her when she first brought up the topic of yin chakra. Hrm. Her water was cooler.

Speaking of.

The icy bracelets around her wrists sprang to life, icicles launching themselves toward her mother’s back. Hitomi dodged, as Kyou expected, but the sudden movement and the surprise at being attacked by her own daughter disrupted the flow of her chakra enough for Kyou to break free of her shadows. As soon as she felt the grip of her mother’s chakra loosen, Kyou leapt back, falling from the treetops onto the soft, powdery snow below. She kept her sharingan trained on her mother as the older kunoichi followed her descent.

Kyou filled the snow beneath her with yin chakra, asserting her will on the frozen water. When her mother touched down, she entered Kyou’s domain, her own yin filled shadows dispelled by the gentle blue glow emanated from within the snow itself, the light fueled by Kyou’s chakra as the ice awaited her orders.

Lit from beneath by her daughter’s chakra, Hitomi’s glare was even more severe.

“Kyou,” she snarled, looking at the luminescent snow with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

Kyou didn’t respond, stepping back and keeping her distance, instead. When her mother began to approach her, she called on her namesake skill and sent a wave of killing intent toward her. Hitomi stopped, her expression suddenly aggrieved.

“Kyou.” Her voice was laden with shock and censure. “Why are you acting like this? Don’t you want to leave?”

Kyou’s face scrunched up as she considered her answer. It hurt to have her mother speak in that tone, but she couldn’t just meekly go wherever she wanted her to.

“My eyes,” she said lowly. “Are cursed. They’re evil. You know that better than anyone else in the world. So, why,” she looked up and glared right at her mother, sharingan blazing. “Why are you trying to steal them?”

Her mother closed her eyes and sighed, a tension leaving her body. “Oh, Kyou, you really are too smart for your own good.”

Oh, no. That sounded like a villain line.

Yep. Hitomi’s hands came together in a blur, hand signs forming faster than the eye could see.

…Well, faster than the normal eye, anyway.

Kyou could see every sign she made and the subtle shifts in her chakra. She was going to use an offensive technique, a big one, too, by the looks of things.

Kyou called on the yin chakra in the snow and formed an image in her mind. Almost simultaneously, the snow shot up and too the form of hardened ice spikes, stabbing straight up at her mother. Hitomi dodged, the movement disrupting her jutsu. Kyou watched with some confusion as her mother cursed before launching into…the…exact same hand signs? Did…did she think Kyou would let her finish this time? Was…was she really a Nara?

Was…was Kyou a real genius, after all?

Once again, Kyou sent ice after her mother, the ground around them becoming a field of spikes. Hitomi attached herself to the trunk of a tree, her face twisted with anger.

“How?” She demanded. “How are you doing that?”

Kyou looked up at her mother, at once confused and disappointed. “You’re the one who taught me how to do this, though?”

Hitomi’s expression only twisted further. “What are you talking about? This is nothing like—.” Shock cleared her face of the vicious anger that marred it, making her look like the mother Kyou knew for a single, precious moment before that anger reignited. “Is this yin chakra?”

Uh…yeah?

“Impossible! Chakra doesn’t behave like this! You’re not even using hand signs!”

Um…so?

Kyou and her mother stared at each other, both equally confused. Hitomi recovered first, hands falling into the sign of the Rat. Kyou watched as her mother’s shadow stretched down the trunk of the tree, crossing the glowing field of ice and snow in a mad dash for Kyou.

Tch. Seriously?

Kyou sent up more icicles, refracting the light and making it harder for her mother’s shadow to progress. She looked up at Hitomi where she sat on the tree, face grim with concentration, and sent a round of spinning ice shuriken, freshly formed from the falling snow, right at her. Her mother paled and dove out of the way only to run afoul of a fresh batch of icicle blades.

Red blood bounced on the white snow, catching Kyou’s gaze and holding it. The striking contrast between blood and snow was only amplified by the blue glow of her chakra, giving the spatter an ethereal appearance.

Blood on snow. Red and white.

Her breath hitched in her chest, memories of a similar scene, blood also spilled by her, rising up from the depths of her mind where she’d hoped to bury it. Alas, hers were eyes cursed to remember and the memory played out in picture perfect clarity.

“Kyou.” Her mother’s voice was sweeter than summer watermelons, dripping with kindness and concern. “Kyou, sweeting, are you alright?”

Hands. There were hands coming for her face. She needed to defend herself. Water, was there water?

There was.

She reached out, seizing control of warm, running water and freezing it, turning it into a deadly ball of sharp ice and launching it at her attacker.

More blood spilled onto the snow, steam rising from the fresh flow. Kyou looked into her mother’s wide eyes, Hitomi’s face frozen in an expression of horrified surprise. Kyou’s face stung where something sharp dug into the thin flesh of her temple, just beside her eye. Her mother fell to her knees, the movement jerking her hand and tearing into Kyou’s face.

“Kyou,” her mother gasped, breathing ragged and wet. “You…monster.”

Kyou watched, frozen, as her mother fell to one side, her chest caved in around a jagged ball of her of her own blood, frozen by Kyou’s chakra. Her hand fell open, revealing the wooden comb her daughter used to style her hair, one end filed to a wicked point and stained with that child’s blood.

Kyou stumbled back, sinking to her knees before her mother’s corpse—the corpse she’d made.

This was all wrong. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She was gonna get strong, _super_ strong, and take her mother away. Together, she, kaa-chan, and baa-chan would all live happily, free of the Uchiha Clan’s stupid plans and evil eyes. How? How did it come to this?

“Kyou-chan! Kyou-chan, where are you?”

A familiar voice broke through her panic and she leapt to her feet, rushing toward the shouting.

“Baa-chan! Baa-chan, I’m here! I’m here!”

She launched herself at her grandmother, sending the old woman flying backward into a snowbank. Kyou buried her face in her baa-chan’s chest, weeping loudly. Hands gnarled by decades of hard work pulled her closer as other familiar voices and firelight surrounded her, the warmth of the embrace fending off the chill of winter, but doing nothing for the ice slowly encasing her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, Kyou as she appears in this and the last two-ish chapters. By the amazing [Avokkun](https://avokkun.tumblr.com/)


End file.
